


Cobalt

by TweedledeesTwin



Category: Knives Out (2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Marta is so nice, Not Beta Read, Plot, Ransom will feel bad eventually, Rated M for Eventual Smut, Redemption, Second Chances, Slow Burn, Violence in Later Chapters, like one scene
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:00:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 46,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22217419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TweedledeesTwin/pseuds/TweedledeesTwin
Summary: A year since inheriting the Thrombey fortune, Marta's trying to make the most of the situation. Finding something she wasn't sure anyone was meant to find, she's determined to forget it.  Then she gets a suspicious letter in the mail, and Marta finds herself trying to seek answers from someone she hasn't seen for at least a year. Worse still, it seems she's the only one that has the power to help him. Now Marta needs to ask what she's willing to do to get her answers.
Relationships: Marta Cabrera & Ransom Drysdale, Marta Cabrera/Ransom Drysdale
Comments: 226
Kudos: 626





	1. The Badger

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I’m writing this fic because I loved Knives Out. Now that that’s outta the way. 
> 
> I love both Benoit Blanc and Ransom Drysdale (Ransom only because he was played by Chris Evans.) I have to acknowledge it now. This is going to be in an alternate universe where Fran didn’t die and Ransom didn’t get to meet her, because only then can I justify my love for a Ransom/Marta pairing. It's the only thing I've changed so far. But I wrote this just so I can get it out of my head.

Marta placed her coffee mug in the murky water. She liked losing herself in doing the dishes. She lifted the mug, swished, then poured the water out before rinsing it off then set it to the side. The mug was always the first thing she washed, and the last thing she dried. She began to towel dry the dishes, stopping when she ran her thumb over the lip of the mug and found a chip.

That was certainly disappointing. Funny how she had all this money, yet she couldn't even fathom buying a replacement. The mug was purely sentimental, and money couldn’t replace that. She placed it gently in her cupboard. She'd still drink from it, just avoid the chip. She’d also be sure to tell the new maid Cecilia not to throw it out.

Marta moved into the library. It was getting warmer, despite the snow that covered the grounds. The natural light made this her second favorite room in the house after the study. Since she had stepped up in Blood Like Wine publishing, she'd begun reading Harlan’s works in gusto. After all, in order to understand what the readers wanted, she needed to understand where they've been. 

Harlan had appreciated that she didn't read his books when he’d hired her. Sure, he'd asked if she was a reader and what she'd enjoyed. Medical texts, historical, young adult, with an occasional romance thrown in, was the literature she preferred. Yet, he'd been so relieved that she didn’t pretend to read his works. _“You like what you like, don’t hide that.”_

Mystery and thriller held its own type of suspense since the last month. She didn't know if she liked the butterflies in her stomach, but the pages turned themselves. She was almost mad that her friend hadn't been pushier and insisted she read a part of his world. For now, the texts fulfilled some research and helped her feel a little closer to Harlan.

Inside the library, she found herself eyeing the spiral of knives. After Ransom was arrested, she’s come back down here and tested one. It was also a fake, but the one next to it had been real. The thought of how close to death she’d come kept her awake. Some nights it woke her up clutching at her chest. She wondered how long it would take for her to forget.

She took a deep breath, willing those thoughts away. At least she could get lost in a book, She cracked open _The Badger._ Getting lost in the elegantly spun tale of a man searching for clues on his missing wife. Soon the sun went down, and she absently searched for the remote for lights trying not to tear her eyes from the page. From inside the library, she heard a shift in the house as the front door was opened.

"Mija?"

"Aqui!" Marta placed a ribbon in the book and stretched. Yawning as she met her mother in the hallway. "Que tal?" 

"Bien," Marta's mother, Beatriz, took off a tote of groceries and handed them to Marta. "I decided to drop by that store to grab some carnitas and bolillos. We can have an easy dinner tonight."

"Thanks, I'm starving.” Marta smiled, “how was the class?"

"It is not so bad. the others are eager to learn and help each other, I may stay later next time to study."

Marta smiled though it was tight. After so many years worrying about her mother's citizenship, it was hard to believe that it was going as it was. It was still remarkably challenging, she hadn't spared any expense, once the lawyers Alan had introduced to her realized who she was, they were more than happy to get into her good graces. She was still trying to get used to it.

Marta kissed her mother's cheek then made her way to the kitchen. "that's good, I'm glad."

They ate in the kitchen, discussing Alice, who was out of state going to a college that hadn’t been an option before. Alice still listened to murder mysteries on the radio, something that gave her roommate pause before entering the dorm they shared. Marta just gave her sister a hug and told her to go easy on the poor girl.

She missed the noise Alice bought. She also wished there were more people to fill the space. She tried to bring the dogs in, but they shattered two vases. Before the dogs were never allowed in the house. The Thrombeys treated them as additional security in between throwing a ball. Which made sense since they’d caught two snoopy reporters attempting to get photographs.

Mr. Proofroc had been more than happy to continue to work for Marta, happier still to add additional cameras that extended the grounds. Now no one would be unseen when going past the elephant statue or up the muddy path through the forest gate. She also hired a groundskeeper, Thomas, to help Mr. Proofroc.

Marta’s mother excused herself for bed, leaving Marta to wonder if she should toss and turn for an hour or kill time. She began going through the large bottom floor, making sure to draw the blinds. When she made it to Harlan’s study– Her study– she took some extra time to place the contracts and papers she’d just begun to understand in the drawers. Her hand settled on the curve of the desk, and she heard an audible _click._

Startled, she jumped as a slot seemed to open up from the top of the desk. She hesitated before running her hand over it checking. She wedged her fingers under the lip and tried to pry it up. When it finally opened, she saw the thick stacks of papers that were undeniably a manuscript. 

Harlan and his games, she thought. Sighing, she pushed the hair back from her face. She wondered if she should bother it, but it was on her desk. She carefully lifted the text from its resting place. It was certainly thick. The front in bold capital letters, **THE COBALT HARROWING.**

She placed a hand on it, she’d been in contact with the publishers and had already discussed the unpublished book that Harlan had finished just four months before his death. No one had mentioned this. It felt weirdly private, to be sitting in the silence with something meant to be hidden. She steeled herself and turned the page.

Time passed in silence eerily, the story so different from what she’d read from Harlan. It wove together in simple elegance. It was a mystery, the story of a man who’d returned home from the First World War to find that his family didn’t remember him. Not even anyone in the small town he’d grown up in could recollect him.

Eventually, Marta reached the last page and sat with her brows pinched in concentration. Why hide this? It was riveting. In some ways, it expanded her understanding of how complex the mystery genre could be. Light filtered through the slacks on the window behind her. She’d pulled an all-nighter it seemed. She began to fix the manuscript, turning the last page only to see the pencil scrawl across the back.

_I know you said to give time to breathe, but I think it had enough time to do that. Whatever you’re thinking right now, keep it to yourself until you have something nice to say. – R_

Marta closed her eyes and took a shuddering breath. Of course, the manuscript was different, it wasn’t even Harlans. Ransom never really talked about the summer that he was Harlan’s research assistant. The Thrombeys mentioned it in passing, but from what she heard, he’d given up on it. But the manuscript in front of her seemed to be proof that wasn’t the case.

Her thoughts about Ransom changed considerably with this. Still, he’d tried to kill her. The only word he’d said when he’d failed had been “ _shit._ ” Shit, he’d failed. Not shit, I’m sorry. Shit, he’d picked the wrong knife. It had been almost a year since he’d gone to prison.

Marta knew people often made mistakes when they couldn’t control their emotions. It was no excuse though. Marta sighed as she put the manuscript back in the desk, making sure she knew how to reopen the slot that kept it hidden. It seemed a shame, but what else could she do? Wearily she trudged up the creaky stairs to go to bed, not like it would help.


	2. Drop in the Bucket

Days passed, and Ransom’s manuscript seemed to hum to her in the desk. She wanted a moment to herself, but the house wasn’t hers yet. She’d been focused on other things rather than take down the family pictures or even clean the families rooms that they used when they were here. She started slowly, a sculpture here, a picture there. Sorting boxes from each room that she would either sell, donate to a museum, or give to a Thrombey. When Meg found out what she was doing, she called dibs.

Meg even came over to help once or twice. It was nice to relax and have tea with her. Meg had tried to learn how to play GO but couldn’t wrap her head around it. Instead, they settled for movies and discussions of literature. After Meg’s last visit, Marta decided to use the rest of the motivation to start on the family rooms. She chose Walt’s first.

Her goal was simple, just box up personal effects and box them for delivery. The room he and Donna shared was by no means warm. It was an ornate purple room, with dark wood furnishings. In the bedside tables, there was medication for Walt and a pair of earrings for Donna. She shook her head, these were no doubt important, and them being gone for so long might have them give her trouble.

She collected smaller folded documents that she was too polite to read also went into the box, along with clothing, though Donna had enough dresses in dry cleaner bags, which made her hesitant to fold them. Another paper caught her eye. It was on the bedside table the wording big enough that she couldn’t ignore it even if she wanted too. 

Walt had ordered a background check on her. The date just after Ransom's arrest. She looked through the pages, details of her life down to her what extracurriculars she had in high school. She was shaking with anger. He’d still looked through her background, probably to find something else to blackmail her with. Alan had mentioned that he was dealing with questions of a lawsuit, but that he’d snuffed them.

Ignoring her previous thoughts, she looked through the other documents in the box. One document was an inquiry on selling the publishing company, apparently dated before the will had been read. Another, a letter to lawyers to look into Harlan’s mental health dated before the birthday.

Disgusted, she threw those back in the box, dreading what else she would find in the other rooms. She pushed it up on her hip and made her way to Jacobs. Finding ties, schoolwork assignments, and a journal with a deer sticker. Remembering the comments from Harlan’s 85th birthday, she decided not to look through this particular item.

Linda and Richard’s room was a simple grey and cream room. It was easy for Marta to guess which side Linda slept on. Linda had obviously been cleaner, finding only a lighter and a book. Richard’s side held flossing picks, gum, a planner with scrawled out numbers, and a pair of dress shoes.

She hesitated outside Meg and Joni’s room. Meg sometimes spent the night, and she didn’t want to invade her space. She skipped that room, placing things in the box that she knew Joni had mentioned or lost around the house, mostly supplements, lotions, and crystals.

Finally, she got to Ransom’s room, from what she knew he didn’t stay too often, but he did or had. Inside warm browns complement the room. Small objects that marked his place more so than the rest of his family, pens, notebooks, sweaters, this would be the fullest box yet. Whether it was because he made himself comfortable wherever he went or that the items had no real value to him– She didn’t know.

Ransom didn’t seem the type to leave a journal, but she thumbed through the notebooks anyway. Ideas, charts, blurbs really were sporadically placed on the pages. Realizing that this may actually be important to him had her tucking them safely away in the box.

A stack of Harlan’s books was sitting under the nightstand. She saw The Badger and picked it up. She let the book open naturally and blinked. He’d written in the margins. _Good imagery._ She looked through the others and saw they also shared his writing. Marta placed these books in his box too.

It was moments like this that made her wonder who Ransom was at all. She sighed then continued to clean. He had a lot of knits, which made sense for the Massachusetts typical weather. He had a photo in a desk by the wall of him and Harlan when Ransom was younger, maybe thirteen. 

They looked happy, then Marta finished that thought bitterly. It would never change what happened. The desk was filled with an assortment of papers, post-it notes, even a napkin, just like the notebook, ideas jotted down on the page. Marta decided she should leave it as is, and chose instead to focus on the already overflowing box.

She grunted as she toted it down to the main hall. Rubbing her back when she set it down next to the others. Already the house looked a little less cluttered. It was weird, so much of this house belonged to the Thrombeys, at least their presence that she wondered how she should handle the pictures. She began slowly, looking at the members in the family and placing them in boxes according to who looked best. 

She hesitated over one of Wanetta and Harlan, younger and not at this house. Some of Harlan alone also stumped her. She wanted to keep these but still didn’t know what right she had to these pictures. She took them and found a spot in the library for them and would ask Wanetta if she wanted them later. She sorted the others and added them to boxes being careful since these were memories in print. 

Using the old rotary phone in the hall, she called Joni first. Joni answered. “Marta, that is so nice, like really. If you need any help cleaning the rest, just let us know.”

“If it crosses my mind, I will.” Marta relaxed but shook her head, “Do you think you could be over in an hour?”

“Of course! In fact, I have a gift for you from this wonderful boutique I have connections with. I can’t wait.”

“Joni, thank you for the thought but its really not necessary–”

“Of course it is!”

“Thank’s Joni, can I talk to Meg?”

“Yes, here she is now.” 

The shuffle of a phone passed, then Meg saying, “Already done?”

“You called dibs, I didn’t touch anything in your old room.”

“That’s probably for the best, I have my own stash in there I’ll get out later.”

“Okay, so long as you’re not put out or anything,” Marta said. They chatted for a little while longer before she hung up.

Joni and Meg were the easiest to talk to. She only hesitated a bit before she called the others. Linda and Richards’s line went to voicemail. Relieved, she left a simple message saying that she would be here tomorrow for pickup if they couldn’t make it tonight. 

The number she had for Donna and Walt was picked up by their housekeeper Sonya, and once Marta explained what was going on, she was put on hold for nearly ten minutes.

“Yes.” Walts’s brusque tone finally answered. 

“Hello, Walt. Its Marta, I have some of your family’s belongings if you would like to pick them up later tonight?”

“Finally decided to give up the publishing company?” His tone was bitter as he joked.

“You know what I am referring to.” Marta felt her accent get a bit thicker with impatience, “though I could hand them over to Alan for safekeeping if you decide not to come by.”

“No. We’ll be there.” He paused, “No one claimed the bronze wolf statue?”

“No, because I haven’t decided what to do with it all yet.”

“Well, if you do.”

“I’ll see you later, Walt.” He too hung up.

Marta placed the phone back on the stand and went into the kitchen. Coffee didn’t sound too bad at nearly five o’clock. She pulled down her mug, it’s simple message making her stand a little bit taller as she made the coffee. She walked up to the second-floor balcony to watch for their cars. Bundled up in her thick cardigan, she just enjoyed her drink and the sun beginning to set. The smooth sound of tires and the creaking of the automatic gate opening let her know they’d arrived.

It wasn’t until she stood she realized this would look just like the day Ransom was arrested.   
A black car pulled up followed closely by a silver car, Marta took her coffee and had another sip. Both families got out of their vehicles. Joni waved up at Marta when she exited. Marta raised her mug and made her way down to the front door. Despite seeing her leave, she heard them knocking while she rounded the stairs. 

The Thormbeys seemed to swell into her home, not needing an invitation. Old habits die hard, it seemed.

“Marta, I love what you’ve done with the place.” Joni offered, then hugged Marta, who lamely patted her back.

“See you still haven’t fixed the stairs,” Walt noted. “Heard you from a mile away.”

“We were just outside the door,” Meg rolled her eyes. 

“Besides It’s charming.” Joni countered. She was standing with her arms crossed like she was looking at a painting, “It gives the house character.” Marta heard Jacob mutter “suckup” under his breath. Meg bumped him and shot him a look. 

“Sorry, I took the liberty of packing these so far,” Marta said.

“Did you go through anything,” Walt added sharply. 

Marta felt acid in her throat when she answered, “Not if I could help it.” It seemed to settle her, and she was grateful for the half-truth. They all seemed to accept that meant she hadn’t and looked at the boxes. Marta took the initiative, “Here is the box from your rooms, I placed a piece of paper in each. If you can think of anything– within reason that you may want from the house, I’ll think about giving it to you as well.”

“Within reason? Now see here!” Walt began, but Marta interrupted, raising a hand to silence him. 

“I’ve thought long and hard about this. The pages can be held over to Alan, who will give them to me.” 

“Doesn’t that seem a little cold?” Joni asked.

“I don’t think so. I think it’s reasonable given the circumstances.” Marta finished softly. “It’s nice to see you all.” Meg shot her a thumbs-up sign, and Marta shot her a look that said, ‘please don’t.’ 

“It’s fine.” Meg finished, “which are the boxes I asked about?”

Marta gestured over to two, and let Meg have at them. Behind her, Walt and Donna were going through their box. Walking over, she picked up Jacobs and handed it to him. “This is yours.”

Jacobs’s eyes narrowed as he grabbed his box. “You didn’t look through anything, did you?”

“No.” she met his eyes, something that didn’t happen nearly as often when everyone was together.

“Okay.” He looked away suddenly, seeming to shrink on himself. He often seemed the type to say something outlandish to get attention, which didn’t seem to happen in this family. A sharp gasp brought her attention to Joni.

“Marta.” Joni held a photo, lightly touching the man in it. Her voice thick. “Thank you.” Meg came over and looked with Joni. 

“If I find anything else of his, or with his name on it. It’ll be yours.” 

“Well, this is it?” Walt interrupted gesturing to his own stuff. 

“All I could find so far.”

“You could have waited to find it all before inviting us here.”

“Like I said, if I miss anything, I’ll let you or Alan know.” Marta finished her coffee. Its message on display. “Do you need help moving the boxes to the car?”

Despite Walts cane, he hefted the box for Donna to carry. “We’ve got it covered.” Donna shot him a dirty look, and Marta swooped in to take the box. 

“I can get this if you grab the trunk.” She offered. Donna didn’t need to be told twice, she shoulders the box to Marta and begins to march back to the car her heels clicking on the pavement. Marta kept a straight face next to Walt and Jacob. Placing the box in the back. She made it back to the porch as the car took a full ark and drove away.

“Some people don’t want help,” Meg said, coming to stand next to Marta.

“No, they don’t.” Marta said, then added, “but sometimes you need to give them a hand anyway.”

Joni came out, holding their box. She looked exhausted, and her eyes glossy. “Come on, Meg. We should go home.”

Meg gave Marta a hug when they said their goodbyes. Meg promised to visit later after school began to calm down. She watched them leave, a little happier to see Joni as someone other than an influencer. She ran her hands through her hair, two down, one to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much! I'm shocked that it got over a hundred reads, I expected one and that would have been enough. I'll try to post at least weekly or as soon as a chapter stops writing itself.   
> I already have three outlined and I'll start like right now lol. Thank you again.


	3. The Needle Game

The next morning Marta saw she had a message on her cell from Linda. She would be by around 12 in between open house appointments to get her things. Marta replied that she’d be there before starting her day by going on a jog with the dogs. She filtered through statues of jungle animals with their maws gaping open, in between the trees, trying to trick herself into thinking this was normal. Outside the guardhouse, she checked in with Mr. Proofroc before heading back. 

Back home she began a pot of coffee and took a shower. She finished changing, beginning to put her hair up just as she heard the dogs barking. Linda must have made it. Going down to open the door confirmed that Linda had arrived, wearing a crisp white suit that now had two paw prints on the blazer. 

“I hope you won’t mind footing the bill for the dry cleaners.” Linda was as sharp as ever.

She arched a brow, “No, I won’t.” She didn’t add that Harlan never had done such when this incident had happened before. It was a power play, pure and simple.

After a moment's hesitation, Linda broke the silence, “Well, can I come in?” Marta moved to the side. Linda walked in taking in the entryway. Noting the lack of pictures and the boxes on the floor. “It seems your adjusting well.”

“It’s an adjustment.” Marta shrugged, then gestured to the box closest to her. “This is yours and Richards.”

“Ah. You packed it together.” Linda looked at the box with disdain. “I don’t suppose you’ll have another?” At Marta’s questioning look Linda rolled her eyes. “Divorce will be finalized in about two more months.”

“Sorry.”

“No, you’re not.” Then Linda chuckled, “Actually you’d be rushing to the toilet if you weren’t.”

Marta took a deep breath through her nose. “Would you like me to grab another box for his belongings?”

“No need, I’ll hand them over to Alan for you.” Linda went through the box, setting some pictures on the floor and lifted the box easily.

“Wait,” Marta said, grabbing Ransom’s box. “This is Hughs.” 

Linda looked at the box in Marta’s arms and then her face, “and what do you expect me to do with it?”

“Take it?”

“I don’t have any room. Just keep it.”

“I’m trying to clean up Linda, can I have Alan forward it to his old address?” she’d only been there once and didn’t know if she could remember where it was.

“Richard and I came to an agreement. I sold it.”

“You– sold it?”

“Well, he wasn’t going to be living in it anytime soon.” 

Marta just shook her head, speechless.

“Why does it matter?” Linda said suddenly. “If you’re that desperate to be rid of his things you can throw them away. Can you get the door?” Marta opened it for her, letting Linda out of her home. Linda walked briskly back to the car throwing over her shoulder, “You can keep all the photos too.”

Closing the door, she looked over at the photos on the floor all were photos of Ransom. Marta bit her lip while she gathered them. Apparently, it was easy for Linda to cut off the men in her life. She couldn’t fault her for that, but she could wish that Linda acted more humane towards her given the circumstances. The days of being called kiddo seemed to be behind both of them.

She hadn’t really given much thought to how the family would deal with Ransom. Mostly, because she would prefer to focus on the past only if it gave her joy. But the hard fact was everything haunted her. It was hard not to be reminded of the events that happened when she was surrounded by it.

When things had first settled she wondered if she should move, sell everything and leave. But she would miss this place, so she stayed for the year seeing how everything would play out. She didn’t expect that she would become someone else. She was an heiress, albeit a reluctant one. But one with vasts sums of money that got her invited to charities and openings at art museums. She’d turned almost all of them down physically, she still donated if the cause was good.

Working at the Blood like Wine had taken a lot of her time. Setting events and plans for Harlan’s books, as well as balancing other authors that had their own works was important. She arranged meetings with agents, confirmed appointments with staff for books at auction, and oversaw new translations for the books. She was grateful that the employees held a tight ship.

By the time her mother came home Marta was focusing so hard on the computer she didn’t hear her come in. She jumped when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

“There you are?” Beatriz said. Looking at the clock she tsked. “How long have you been in here?”

“Long enough.” Marta leaned back and stretched. 

Her mom brushed the hair from her face, “do you like this new you, Mija?” 

Marta leaned into the touch but furrowed her brows at the question, “It’s an opportunity that I didn’t think we could have.”

“But do you love it? You could go back to school, be a nurse.” 

“I’m thinking about it.”

“That’s the problem, you spend a lot of time thinking. Away from the computer, we should get dinner ready.”

###### 

Marta still didn’t have an answer to her mother’s questions, which had persisted throughout the week. She knew she liked what she was doing. She enjoyed reading the manuscripts that came across her desk in their giant manilla envelopes. She liked the employees she saw both in-home and at Blood like Wine as they discussed a book over coffee. Harlan’s death had morbidly increased sales. Even after news stopped covering it, the quarterly report still showed up in the black. The reaction had everyone at the company optimistic making Marta wonder how Walt ran things before.

Later that night, when she got home, she took off the jacket and small heels that she put on to see her mother had already brought in the mail. She went through each letter, glad that most of the Thrombeys mail had been annexed from this address. She still got the occasional letter in Harlan’s name, but not many at this point. 

An Australian postcard from Fran saying, Hope you’re enjoying the cold while I work on my tan! Made Marta smile. She sorted through the others when the blank envelope gave her pause. Suddenly she was back in her kitchen opening a letter that said, “I know what you did.”

Blank on the front and the back, her heart thudded in her chest and she peeled the top open. Inside was a dark blue powder and nothing else. Marta was careful to not touch any of the powder and left for the study fumbling around for the card Detective Benoit Blanc gave her when he left. 

She called and received an answering machine. “Hello there, this is the number for P.I. Benoit Blanc. Unfortunately at this moment, I am out of the country on a case. Please leave your name and number and I at my closest convenience I will get back to you.”

“Hello, Benoit, its Marta Cabrera, I may be overreacting but I got an odd letter in the mail. It just seems a little weird and I was hoping to talk to someone about it. I’ll try Detective Lieutenant Elliot instead.”

Marta tried for the police department, but when she described the contents of the letter the police officer chortled on the other end of the line. “Mam’ this is probably a prank.”

“If you could just forward me to Lieutenant Elliot I would really appreciate it.”

“The Lieutenant is out at the moment, but I will leave a message and say you called.”

“Thank you.”

The cop hung up and she stared at the phone before going over to the letter again. Carefully she closed it, then went and grabbed a ziplock bag to place it in, just in case. She washed her hands twice. She felt numb, which turned to anger. She took the letter and went to the desk in the study, about to drop it into one of the drawers when it occurred to her. The powder was cobalt.

###### 

When she woke up, she went on a longer run than usual. Why would someone send her that? Eventually before she could second guess herself she contacted Alan. He’d been confused as she explained what she needed. With how hard he’d tried to dissuade her she’d almost folded, but persisted and got what she wanted. The inmate number for a Hugh R. Drysdale.

She blinked at the number, then called the Massachusetts Department of Correction. The prison he was in was only an hour away, Vernin House of Correction. Before she could lose courage she called and waited to speak with someone on visitation. She fumbled her way through it, somehow. The person on the other end of the line seemed disinterested, going through questions robotically. At times she had to mute the phone when she retched over the word “friend” in reply to what her relationship was with the inmate. 

She jogged off the adrenaline again. The dogs were more than happy to follow as her legs burned with the amounts she’d been running. She gave them extra food when they were done. Cecilia had already come and taken care of the untouched rooms in the house. The air inside was crisper than it’d been in a while making the events of the last 24 hours feel like they hadn’t happened at all. It was almost too normal. At least until she checked her email, and saw that her request for visitation had been granted.

A lot of the work had to be done on her end. Background check, arranging the day and time of the visit, making sure the facility wouldn’t turn her away. She followed every rule to the T until finally on a Wednesday she found herself in her car, driving an hour to get to the prison. She parked, then sat in the car clutching the wheel so tightly her knuckles were white. 

The last time she saw Ransom in the flesh was when he was being taken away, she opted out of seeing him at trial because it was already a sure thing. He got five years for attempted murder, hers and that was it. 

Steeling herself she got out of the car then tried not to slip on a thin sheet of ice that hadn’t been salted. She hadn’t expected the prison to be in such an urban area. It was a part of the town. The concrete wall she was walking next to was at least fifteen feet in height. 

She walked up to an officer in a box and mentioned she was here for visitation. He politely asked her to the side for him to open the gate, then gave directions to the front door. The same line of questioning and cross-referencing her credentials happened again before she was in a waiting room with families and more gates. 

She observed the officers in the room, trying not to stare at the people, waiting for someone to call her name. She played with her phone’s cracked screen before she finally heard her name. Everything happened almost clinically. Metal detectors, a brief consensual pat-down because her cardigan and shirt were too loose before she was led through an almost dank hallway into a bare guarded room with cameras, tables, and people. 

Her eyes trained on him immediately. He was standing still, orange was an odd color on him. She took in how he’d changed. He seemed to be just as broad as before but leaner. His hair longer and stubble painted his jaw. The guard standing next to him released his arm and left leaving him standing in cuffs.

They didn’t say anything for the first few minutes just took their seats. Marta didn't know how she should start. Ransom sat watching her. She watched him in return. 

"So are you going to say something? Or are you here to see your handy work?" He said. Marta eyed his hands which were clasped in front of him. He moved them under the table. "Really, what do you want Marta?"

"I saw your family a couple of days ago."

“Really? I’m sure that was fun, sad I couldn’t be there.”

Marta just stared at him. She had a lot to say but it seemed to choke her. She was at a bar trying to keep down her food. She was in the library with a fake knife in her chest. Then she was on the balcony, lifting her head high as he was pushed into a cop car. 

“Are you going to say anything?” He quirked his brow.

“I’m thinking.”

“You do that a lot.”

“Well a lot has happened, and I don’t know where to begin. I really can’t stand you.” She said heatedly. “Right now, I can’t believe–” She clasped her hands. “I think I hate you, and that’s hard for me to think about.”

He shook his head and muttered something under his breath. “So you came all the way over here to tell me a lot has happened and you hate me?”

“No. It just seemed like a good starting point.” She huffed.

“Sure, yeah. Say whatever you want, not like I can do anything.” 

“You could say sorry.” She offered.

Ransom shook his head, hair falling into his eyes. “That won’t make any difference.”

“Trust me, for me it would.”

“Sorry.” He sighed, “Is that better?”

“No. Actually, it’s not.” She shook her head a dry laugh escaping her lips. “Listen, I can see this was a mistake. I’m sorry for wasting your time.” She began to push herself up when his hand shot out and grabbed her wrist.

A guard at the wall began to make his way over, and Ransom quickly moved his hand back. “I’m sorry. Please wait.”

Marta looked at his lowered head and slowly sat back down. The guard looked wary but stayed where they were. Marta waited for Ransom to break the silence, when he didn’t she continued. “I remember you saying that for an attempted murder and arson charge all you need was a good lawyer and you’d be out in no time. So, why aren’t you?”

“That’s because you’re my second visitor. Mom beat you here.” He shrugged, “Who knew that someone could still be disowned in 2019? Well after Harlan maybe it’s just a Thrombey thing?”

Tentatively she said, “So she refused to help you?”

“She said it would be,” he gave a dry laugh of his own, “‘the best thing that ever happened to me.’”

Marta took a breath before she said, “It’s not fair for them to do that to you.”

“Bullshit.” He seethed, “you don’t mean that.”

“I do.” She stared at him. “I think it’s funny that no one seems willing to listen to me unless I’m bent over a bowl.”

He looked like he was biting the inside of his cheek. “What do you want Marta?”

She took a deep breath. “Help.”

He seemed shocked, then schooled his features. “What happened?”

“I got a letter. Blank, front and back.”

“Like the one I sent you.”

“Like the one you sent me.”

“Blackmail.” He leaned back.

“Not exactly.” She said. “It was filled with blue powder.”

He’d realized what it meant, he’d have too. “that’s it?”

“That’s it.” she led on, “you said you were a research assistant for Harlan, I wondered if you knew what it meant?”

He tilted his head to the side as if weighing his options. “I might know something.”

“What will it cost me?”

“A lawyer.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “You’re insane.”

“I’m serious.”

She shook her head, “Ask for something reasonable Ransom.”

“Then I’ll take your honesty.” He shifted, “If you can answer my questions I’ll help you.”

She was wary, her honesty was basically free for him. “What type of questions?”

“That would be against the rules.”

“Do you really think you can be making the demands here?”

“It’s worth a shot, unfortunately, my mouth is all I have.”

“You get one question. But only if you answer one of mine.”

“Fine.” Ransom finished. They seemed to straighten, both with their mouths in a hard line.

“What do you want to know? And that is not my question.” She clenched her hands on the table. Stupid games.

“Tell me what my grandfather felt about me.”

“I’ve already told you that.”

“I know, but I wasn’t listening– and don’t give me that building from the ground up speech. I’ve heard that enough in my lifetime.”

Marta’s eyes stung, this is something she’d wanted to say for a while now, to all of them. “He said he should have been kinder to you. That you two were the same, confident and stupid. Protected. He said you played life like a game without consequence, till you couldn’t tell the difference between a real knife and a stage prop.”

“Wow. Not what I expected but wow.” He leaned back, his expression reminded her of the moment his parents were talking about him getting kicked off The Will. Like he had just been slapped.

“I know other things,” She sighed, “but that was the last thing he focused on that night, he wished he could make things better. You know the rest.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever understand it.” He seemed to be focused on something else before relaxing his shoulders. “Not that it matters. What’s your question, Marta?”

Marta released a breath she wasn’t aware she’d been holding, asking a completely different question than for what she came for. “Do you regret it?” She didn’t need to say what ‘it’ was. It was for switching the medicine, for the lies, for the knife, for everything. 

“I regret a lot of things. I regretted that the knife wasn’t real.” He said plainly, then he shuddered. “I regret that you are a better GO player, though I don’t know what that would accomplish. I regret that I don’t think I could say the things you would want to hear because that would certainly help me out.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Isn’t it?” he challenged, “I can’t change what happened. I own it though. Because no matter what happened when I tried to stab you, at least I let you see it coming. Meg, she told everyone about your mother the second her schooling was threatened. Walt even came to your place. Jacob live streamed you escaping the will reading to make things harder and the media latched on without a care in the world. Joni could have influenced a better picture but she didn’t do shit. And don’t even get me started on my parents. Whenever we talk about you it gets worse– remind me where are you from?”

“Does it even matter?”

“No, I suppose it doesn’t.” He looked mad, “So yes and no I have regrets. Is that good enough for you?” 

She wondered if she looked as tired as she felt. “Thank you, for being honest.”

“Really, you’re thanking me? After all that.” He looked just as tired.

“Yes, because it’s the first time I think you’ve ever been honest with me.”

He just shook his head, “Are you done?”

She wasn’t but she could tell that she had overstayed her welcome. She got up and shifted, wondering how she should say goodbye. Instead, she just said “Thank you.” again like he hadn’t heard her the first time. 

"It’s fine.” A guard came over to stand as Ransom rose as well. He shook his head again and spread his fingers like he was agitated at something. “And Marta?”

“What?”

“Don’t come back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I busted this out. I want to say it'll happen like this again but I don't know. I will try. Work is going to be more demanding but I'm optimistic. Thank you all so much for the comments, I didn't expect this much of a response and I'm glad it seems some of you guys like it enough to see where this thing goes. 
> 
> I can't wait! I also know way too much about the Massachusetts prison system now, and yes I will be taking liberties for this fic. Because if I don't I'm stuck lol. I hope you enjoyed this chapter thank you again for reading!


	4. Ultimatum

Marta left the jail, driving on autopilot to process the visit. Ransom was still very much himself, but he wasn’t. The year hadn’t just changed his appearance. She shouldn’t be feeling guilty, but when he said she was the second person to visit him, she felt– it shouldn’t matter what she felt. She shouldn’t pity him. Shouldn’t understand him either, but she did. She turned the car around, heading towards Boston. Palming her phone, she called Sally, Alan’s assistant, to see if she could walk in.

Sally answered with the same level of professionalism each time but was always shocked that Marta seemed to care about their schedule. Marta balanced the phone between her hands and the steering wheel. She empathized with her, imagining the people Sally dealt with wasn’t hard. Sally double-checked to see if she wanted to meet at the mansion, but Marta said it was fine, that she was already on her way.

She struggled to find parking close to the firm, Boston's busy streets were congested, especially with her being turned around by all the one ways. She didn’t go into town often, usually saving her trips for when errands piled up. This part of Boston was saturated in history, scaffolding held up trying to restore most of the detailing on buildings. One of the higher rises was Alan's firm, mentally she perked herself up before making it inside.

The floor was marble and held a yellow glow from the lights, the waiting room surrounded by dark leather and screamed old money. She felt out of place in her knit cardigan and leggings. The woman at the front desk was sleek and polished. Her eyes trailed over Marta slowly, then she went back to her computer typing as Marta spoke.

“Hello, I’m Marta Cabrera, here to see Alan. Can you tell me what floor he is on?”

“Mr. Moore doesn’t typically see clients,” She kept typing. “I can forward you to one of our subsidiaries.”

“I have a meeting with Alan.” Marta insisted, “Can you tell him I’m here, please.”

The woman sighed, then picked up the phone plucking a number, she rolled her shoulders and still didn’t make eye contact with Marta. She placed the phone back on its stand and spoke again. “His office is busy like I said. There’s a law office down the way that deals with immigration. I think whoever sent you here misinformed you of the types of cases Mr. Moore specializes in.”

She tried not to sigh. If she was a Thrombey, she’d have marched past this woman without care. “It’s fine, I’ll just call him instead.”

The woman looked skeptical as Marta stood and contacted Sally. Who, after hearing the situation, profusely apologized and said she would be right down. It was almost comical how fast she’d been when Sally all but trotted out of the elevator two minutes later, walking straight to Marta.

“Ms. Cabrera, I’m so sorry for the wait.” Sally was wearing a pressed suit and appeared just as sleek as the woman, she rushed forward to shake Marta’s hand. “Alan would love to see you now.”

“It’s okay, really it’s no problem at all. Thank you for agreeing to see me on such short notice,” She noted the other woman’s confused glance shift from her to Sally with sudden pallor.

Sally told her the floor number and gestured to the receptionist. “I hope you don’t mind, but I need to have a quick discussion with one of the interns.”

Marta nodded, then made her way to the elevators. This was not at all what she’d pictured. But then again, any business they had was typically done at her house. She fidgeted in the elevator, already aware that not everyone in her new world was like Harlan.

The doors opened on the sixteenth floor, Alan stood as she stepped out. “Come in, Miss Cabrera.”

“Please, call me Marta.” She took off her cardigan, “would you prefer that I call you, Mr. Moore?”

He shook his hand, bringing the other around to lead her into the thick mahogany door into his office. “Then Alan is fine. I think we are both past those formalities.”

“I didn’t know you have your own firm, I’m sorry to bother you when you’re so busy.”

“It is not a problem at all. I deal with a lot of clientele, but Harlan was always a favorite– and that extends to you as well.” Marta nodded, then took a seat. Alan rounded the table and clasped his hands in front of him. “Now, what can I do for you?”

She wished she could have written everything down, “I need a couple of different things. I would like to inquire about the state of the Thrombey's affairs. I also have additional questions about Ransom.”

Alan raised his brows, “discussing a client’s personal information is typically frowned upon, you know this, I’m sure.”

“I do, but am I wrong in believing none of them are your clients anymore.”

“You would be right. The will didn’t say I came with the inheritance– but it seems I have.” Alan thought seriously, “So far, there have been inquiries as to whether or not you would continue with the allowances– even if you have placed some of Harlan’s relics for sale. I told them the same as I told you that I couldn’t discuss your affairs.”

“I understand.”

“But you are my client, and I am your council.” He seemed to make his mind up. “Joni has been vocal about needing assistance and attempts to cash the additional check that Harlan gave before his death. There was a hold on it from the investigation. Last month Walt and Donna went to another law firm to continue to battle the clause of the will, but I settled it. The only thing I can not discuss indefinitely is Linda, who I am assisting with divorcing Richard.”

“That is already more information than I expected.” Marta shook her head, “thank you for your assistance.”

“It is fine, but is that all you’re here for?"

“I just visited Ransom.” She paid close attention to see if he thought anything about that. He remained neutral. “and from what I’ve been led to believe he hasn’t received any assistance from his family?”

“No. Everyone has refused to acknowledge him.”

“He hasn’t been given anything. Nothing at all?” she persisted.

“Not one red dime, as Harlan used to say.”

Marta pressed her lips. “Could I do something?”

“Surely you aren’t suggesting?” He looked perplexed.

“No– No– He should still be in jail. But I would like to wire him money for the commissary and make sure nothing I do affects his sentence.”

“That would mean,” he paused to let her finish.

“That any restraining orders placed would have to be lifted. I understand that.”

“I don’t think you do.”

“I need to talk to Ransom.” Marta sighed.

“About what?” Alan was intrigued. “You took a step back when the proceedings happened, what's happened now?”

Marta felt herself getting sick, then we worded another half-truth her eyes still stinging. “I need closure.”

Alan nodded, a soft ah coming from him. “Then, if this is what you really want. I can do this.”

“It is.” She shifted. “I would also like to set up a will.” she left out why she felt she needed a will, trying to convince herself it was just for security.

Alan nodded, “Okay, I can give you some of the documentation and explain what I need so you can take it home with you.”

Sally had come back up in the time that it took for them to discuss everything. She entered the room and helped Alan with explaining, which took another hour. Marta settled on the sum of five hundred dollars to transfer each month to Ransom for commissary. They made a couple of appointments over the phone to discuss any other family allowances she may wish to hand out, but suddenly she was done.

She was tired when she left. Going back down the elevator and entering the lobby, the same young woman from before was at the desk. She stood and primly bowed her head when Marta came around the corner. “Ms. Cabrera, thank you for stopping by.”

Marta smiled almost sadly as she said goodbye.

###### 

Marta was still juggling Harlan’s books in between Blood Like Wine project proposals. The week had been full of them with discussions of future events. Sometimes it went over her head, but she spent extra time breaking down what each project would mean. Some of the managers were interested to see if she shared Walt’s view about making adaptations of Harlan’s books.

Marta’s mom was meeting with her study group, she did that a lot recently. She had made friends, and from what Marta could remember, it had been a while since that had happened. Cecilia had let herself in, the woman was nice, a couple of years older than Marta, and just as hard of a worker. She’d never asked Marta about the Thrombeys, which Marta appreciated, and they did become friends in their own way.

“I’ve brought in the mail, would you like it in here?”

“Yes, please, have you heard from Mr. Proofroc?”

“He was out when I came back up the drive, what do you need?”

“Just for his confirmation on the camera by the mailbox.”

“I’ll double-check for when I leave. I don’t envy you with all the attention.”

“Sooner or later, I imagine this will all die down.”

“I’m sure it will, do you need anything else?”

“No, and if you’ve finished airing out the rooms, you could leave early if you liked, spend time with your husband?”

“I would like that, thanks.”

Cecilia left with a smile, and Marta stretched in the chair. She worked through the letters. Since the first letter, she’d gone over the manuscript again, but trying to connect something to it was difficult. She felt it in her gut, wasn’t that enough? Flipping through ads, she saw another letter that gave her pause. The stationary from Vernin House of Correction. Marta took out the letter blade and opened it up.

_Seeing as your paying for the paper I figured you should get this letter, that and I only have four addresses memorized outside my phone. I have more questions for you. But I’ll start with the easiest, why Marta? What do you want? Aside from the family fortune. You shouldn’t be doing this at all– do you have any inkling of self-preservation? Listen, fine. If you want to keep playing whatever game this is, go for it. At least it’s something for me to do.  
Ransom_

Marta smoothed out another piece of paper and took out a pen.

_I’ve given the family separate allowances, I felt that it was only fair that you get some too. I can’t begin to imagine what it’s like in prison, and no, it isn't pity. As for what I want, I want peace. No matter what anyone said, I never tried to get Harlan to leave me anything. But you already know that, and you like to continue blaming me for it._

_Harlan would have done what he did with or without my presence. Isolation makes people think, and the family had done just that. Any of you guys could have learned to help with his medication, visited (without asking for money,) or tried to help one another. But we can’t change the past, remember?_

_Also, You say you have more questions, but you also said to not come back. Which is it?_

_Marta_

Marta reread her letter before sticking it into an envelope and addressed it. She wondered what would happen when he got it. She imagined he would tear it up once he was done, but it was nice not having acid burn the back of her throat.

###### 

His reply came a week later. Cecilia had begun placing the mail in the study, and her mother was never home when it was delivered, but Marta felt like she unintentionally lying. She hadn’t talked to her mother about Ransom, knowing how mad her mother would be stopped her from mentioning him. Promising herself that later it would be easier to talk about. She tore open the letter and began to read.

_Peace isn’t exactly something the Thrombeys are good at, you should know this. And if we’re going to be honest, I blame everyone. Yeah, no one was going to get anything when he died. If it wasn’t you then maybe Fran, or maybe some charity. But it was you. Listen, would you like to talk face to face? If you come, bring GO._ __  
_Ransom_

She shook her head, it was hard not to read it with his voice filling her head. She was about to reply that that wasn’t going to happen. But she still had questions. Why was his manuscript hidden? Maybe he was playing another game, she would be stupid to think he wasn’t. Remembering when he was the only person she trusted didn’t help.

Was it so wrong she wanted to be that for him? Just for a moment, she’d forgiven everyone else. She picked up the phone and dialed the jail, arranging another meeting for tomorrow. She would at least try, she always did.

###### 

The next day it snowed. Was still snowing even as she pulled into a spot outside the prison. She wished that she had brought a bigger jacket as giant drifts of snow gathered in her hair and soaked through her clothes. The proceedings to get in were the same, except the prison guard took a careful look at each GO piece before letting her sit in the waiting room.

Marta took some of the kleenexes at reception and attempted to dry off, just causing the slush to leave bits of wet paper sticking to her in places. Only two others were in the waiting room. Finally, the guard cleared the board and signaled her to wait.

When she was brought back, Ransom was tapping his foot, staring out the window. At her arrival, he looked her up and down but didn’t say anything.

“Hello,” He sat down at the table. “ thought maybe you’d changed your mind.”

“I didn’t,” she raised a transparent tote, “and I brought GO, though I had to explain to everyone what it was.”

“Figures.”

“Will it be easy playing with those?” she motioned to his cuffs.

“We’ll work through it.” He looked like he wanted to say something but held back. “Are you a white or black player?”

“I prefer black.”

“Same.” he finished, “though maybe that’s because Granddad was always white.”

“9 by 9, okay?” She sat the bag of black pieces next to him. “So, has it been easier here?”

He nodded, “the commissary helped.” then he clenched his jaw. “Thanks.”

“You don’t need to do that.” She said. She waited for him to place a piece, and they began.

“You sure about that?”

“I’m sure. But you're welcome.”

He narrowed his eyes and continued to play. They moved quickly, each one checking their liberties and taking pieces. He played aggressively like Harlan. Meanwhile, she played like she always did. Looking at the board and placing the white pieces where she felt they needed to go. Locking two chains of his into atari and then when he had to choose between which one to save, he grunted.

“So, this is how you played with Granddad?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” she began taking his pieces from the board. Then placed another piece. Though she could feel his eyes on her.

“Again.”

“We’re in the middle of a game.”

“Again.” He began resetting the pieces, and Marta felt a flare of annoyance. “What?”

“You really are just like him.”

He stilled, then set a new piece on the cleared board. “Oh?”

“Every time he was losing, he did something to ruin the game or start over.”

“That’s because you’d already won.”

“That’s not the point, you could keep playing, try to take the game back. But he never tried, and I think you’re the same.” His nostrils flared, but he waited. She started another game.

He changed the way he played this time, setting up smaller couplings, Marta played slower, going around his pieces to see if he had a trick up his sleeve. Even if he did, she did too. He looked excited when he caught four of her pieces, not realizing she had sacrificed them for his cluster of eight. Marta won again but was satisfied that they actually finished a game this time.

“So, you said you had questions.”

“I do.” he clenched his jaw again as he looked at the board. “Why did you come the first time?”

“You know why.”

“Yeah, but why ask me about the letter,” It wasn’t a question, he tapped his thumb against the table.

“Because I found your manuscript.” She finally said.

“And you read it,” he added.

“I did,” she said. “Why _The Cobalt Harrowing_?”

“It had a hidden meaning.” He shook his head. “When I wrote it I’d titled it _The Arsenic Harrowing._ and Granddad thought that it pandered to the genre. So I changed it. Cobalt ores and arsenic were related.”

“Why didn’t you publish it?”

“You know why, it was shit.”

Marta started, “what do you mean?”

“It wasn’t good enough. Harlan said I should sit on it– So I did. I reworked it, then I gave it back. Again he told me to sit on it. Over and over, until finally, I gave it to Walt. That was the worst mistake I ever made.”

“What did he do?”

“Aside from rejecting it, he took pieces and read them around the house. He laughed and said I better stick to country clubs.”

“So, everyone knew about it?”

“Oh yeah. It was a running joke longer than you’ve been there.”

Marta shook her head, “he shouldn’t have done that to you.”

“Why do you care?”

“Because it was good.” She said, “I found it in the desk. At first, I thought it was Harlans. I thought he tried something new. I spent all night reading it. Then I turned the page and saw what you wrote.” He just stared at her. His face was resigned, almost impassive. Still, she continued, “To say I was shocked was an understatement. I didn’t understand, still don’t.”

“So that’s it. You liked it.”

“Do I need to say anything else?”

“What did you do with it?”

“It’s still in the desk.”

“You should throw it away.”

“No.” She all but gasped it out. Shocked that he would even say such a thing.

“Why not? Just treat it like it didn’t even exist, and then everything will go back to normal.”

“But, it won’t.” She took a deep breath, “Someone is using it to play with me.”

“Jesus, It was just a letter, Marta. Have you ever heard of a coincidence?”

“With your family, is anything a coincidence?” She pressed on, trying to think about the book. Yes, it was about a man who was forgotten, but he’d received letters too. Someone tried to poison him when he got too close to his family, people died, it ended with the main character dying.

“You think they are going to play out what happened in the book.” He chuckled, “You give them too much credit.”

Marta pursed her lips, “I want help. Just get the theatrics to stop anything, really.”

“What about that Detective?”

Marta was shocked he didn’t add the typical slur that came with addressing Benoit. “He’s out of the country.”

He sat in silence again. Then shook his head, “So? Just wait for him to come back, you don’t need me.”

“I do, you wrote the book,” she forged ahead, just like with GO she laid her pieces in what she hoped would put him in atari, “besides, if someone wants to play a game with me then I want to play with someone that I already beat.”

When she was finished, he started to laugh, just like at the bar, a small chuckle like he couldn’t believe what was happening. “You win.”

“So, you’ll help,” she didn’t want to put too much hope in her tone.

“I will if I can.” He smiled, “but I don’t know what I can do from here. But if anything else I can try.”

Marta gave a small smile, she had a crease in her brow from the tangled web of thoughts she had. “Okay, thank you.”

“Anything for peace? Amiright?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, its fun writing this but wow writing this and then rereading to see if it makes sense is hard lol. A lot of the comments are helping me with clarifying things, at least I hope I'm writing what I'm trying to do in a clear way. Thank you all for the comments. I really appreciate every character spent on this fic. I'll start on the next one now. You're the best!


	5. This Little Piggy

Marta and Ransom kept exchanging letters. Marta tried to respond as soon as she could. Knowing she was the only person willing to talk to him (even after all he did) made her wonder if she was doing the right thing. Then she looked at Harlan's painting and figured she could do what he couldn't. In the end, the only way for her to move forward was to do as she always did.

So she kept writing, almost forgetting it was him. 

_Wanetta asks about you by the way. Since our visits, I have more to share with her, and she seems to be in better spirits. She really loves salmon. She shocked me the other day, uttering that her birthday just passed. That was it. I made sure to bring her some flowers when I visited next time._

_She didn't say what day or how old she became, just "there's cake in the fridge." I didn't put it together until Selene gave me a slice. Selene is her caretaker, I made sure that she had the appropriate credentials, she's in good hands.  
I still haven't received another letter. _

_Marta_

>>>>

The weather changed, causing her to slush around her property. She still jogged with the dogs. They liked to dart ahead and roll in the snow before coming back to keep pace with her. The dogs were always excited when they went farther off the property. She started to check the mail herself since she was already out, and it was just a trip off the trail. When she got indoors, she sorted through the mail as she thudded her way into the kitchen. Opening a drawer so she could slice the letter with a butter knife.

_Good, if there's not another letter, then it's just a prank. You can write it off as some more Thrombey BS. You talk to my grandmother? Since when has that been a thing? She does that, will say some cryptic message and make you wonder if it even happened. I used to joke with my mother that she was all-knowing. Nothing changed over here. I found some of Granddad's books in the library. I figured I could reread some of the classics, the ones that were in print before I was born. They don't really have any of his new stuff.  
Ransom _

She poured some coffee into her mug and wondered what book he was reading. Especially since she'd been working through them too. She walked into the study then placed the letter in the same compartment as his manuscripts. Then she began her reply.

_I try to visit when I'm near her, she misses Harlan. We understand each other, in our own way. I would like to think I'm becoming good at decoding cryptic messages, but maybe that's wishful thinking._

_Harlan had over two hundred books, so how many of those have you read? I started, This Little Piggy. I wasn't expecting something so dark with a title like that. Harlan's last book is coming out February 29th. Hard to believe it's only a couple of months away. We're doing an event for it. Did you go to any event for his previous releases?_

_Happy Holidays,  
Marta_

She wondered if she should keep mentioning Harlan in their letters but decided that to not do so would create more harm than good. After she mailed the letter, she continued her email correspondence with Alan. He didn't have anything else to report about the Thrombeys since she had begun to distribute allowances. But he said they seemed to be doing better on all their platforms, even though they hadn't acknowledged it.

A sudden knocking shook her from the study, it shouldn't be Cecilia. Going to the front door, Marta quickly opened the door for Mr. Proofroc. 

"Hello, Marta." The old man was bundled in a large brown plaid coat, dotted with snow that had just begun to fall. "I figured I'd make my way up here to talk to you."

"Please, please– come in."

"This will only take a moment," still, he walked in, rubbing his hands together.

"Can I get you anything? Tea, coffee?"

"No, it's fine, really." He smiled, but it seemed strained. 

"What is it?"

"Well, all the cameras." He paused considering what he was saying. "They're up, but all this new equipment is hard to keep up with. I don't want to step on your toes, as I've said before, I've been doing this for fifty-one years now, but this new technology is tricky."

"Tricky? How?"

"It's just juggling all the pieces."

"I wasn't aware this was so hard for you." Marta pursed her lips, she didn't know much about the cameras other than VHS tapes could be cleared with magnets. "The one by the mailbox is up?"

He nodded, "but it's buggy, a lot of them are. I've been fiddling with them for days. The recordings get static, and sometimes the pictures aren't good for a couple of minutes or an hour."

She would have asked if he thought new equipment would help, all the stuff they'd purchased had been new, but his earlier point was that it was too much for him, "What do you think we should do?"

He seemed almost relieved, "I can get rid of some of the cameras further out, see if that does anything."

She was almost reluctant to say yes. "Is that the only way?"

"I don't know yet. The only thing I can do is try it out." Mr. Proofroc shook his head, "I want to do a good job for you, Marta, really I do."

"I know, and I appreciate it." She worried her lip, "I leave it in your hands."

###### 

Marta parked outside the prison, shouldering the tote bag with the GO board. Weirdly she was glad they could at least compete this way. They were easing into whatever it was they were doing, helping each other. It was just after Christmas, but visitation was filled for the holidays. Marta and her mother celebrated it a few days before Beatriz left to visit Alice. She wondered if she was pushing her luck with all the visits. That Ransom would eventually get annoyed with her, but she scheduled the appointment to see him anyway.

The waiting room was filled for the holidays. Children sitting on laps and people holding unwrapped gifts. The superintendent and correctional officer were looking over everything people were bringing and rejecting objects that couldn't go into prison. She stood in line to have the GO board and a softcover book with a blank cover checked. 

When it was her turn, the correctional officer took the book, thumbing through the pages hastily. She held her tongue over how the man was abusing the book. She could feel her heart racing, especially if he realized it was the unreleased Harlan Thrombey book he was holding. 

"All clear." The superintendent said as she slid the GO board back, the man holding the book handed it back as well.

She tucked them back in the bag and went to sit down, releasing the breath she'd been holding. She couldn't believe she did it. The guard called her back a couple of minutes later. She and three others were shuffled back into a different room, probably expanded for holiday visitation. This one was brighter, more like a cafeteria, and there were some decorations stuck to the walls. At least they tried.

Ransom eyed her reindeer socks but said nothing until she sat down. 

"Nice sweater."

"In case you haven't seen outside, it's going to be a white Christmas." She took out then began to arrange the GO board, keeping the bag down, hoping she had been strategic enough that he couldn't see the book.

"I haven't." He was doing that thing with his eyes again like he was trying to get a read on her. "Why are you here?"

"It's the holidays."

"Yeah, but you didn't say anything in your letter about visiting."

"I wasn't aware I had too." Her eyebrow rose up, "am I interrupting anything?"

"No."

"You look like you want to say something." She separated the stone bags.

His lips pressed into a thin line. "Shouldn't you be with your family?"

"We already celebrated them, at least my mom and I did. She went to see my sister."

"And the next best thing you could think of was to visit me?"

"I can go if you want?" She challenged.

He exhaled, "I'm not going to look a gift horse in the mouth."

She ignored that, "6 by 6?"

He placed a stone, "anything else happen?"

"So far no, I'd like for it to stay that way. But I'll keep you updated."

He nodded, "like I've been saying, it could just be my family's way of fucking with you."

"I've thought of that."

"And?"

She took some of his stones from the board. "I'm trying to be kinder to them all. Maybe then I can just be."

He seemed skeptical. "They're blackmailing you with paranoia." 

She shrugged. "I'm choosing to give them money."

He took a group of three from her, shaking his head. "Did you get anything good?"

"What?"

"For Christmas, did you get anything?"

"I got this sweater." He'd changed the subject, and she let him, slightly thankful. "Did you get to do anything here?"

"I got a shiv. My bunkmate made it from Irish Spring soap." He whispered, and she pursed her lips. "What? Not even a laugh?"

"Maybe later," She took another stone.

"I didn't get anything. I haven't got anything for the last couple of years. We weren't really a Christmas family."

She shook her head, "I shouldn't have asked."

"You didn't, I did. You were just trying to be polite." He placed a stone, "I'm trying to get used to it."

"What? Me being polite?"

They both knew he was referring to something else, but he said yes anyway. They finished the game, her winning again before a guard gave them a five-minute warning. Ransom started putting the stones away, and she reached down and grabbed the gift. Taking it out and putting it on the table. 

Ransom stopped, "What is this?"

"It's a book."

"I know it's a book." He replied, opening a page then scanning a couple of lines he froze. "It's?"

She nodded, "It's an advanced reader copy."

He set it back on the table. "I can't."

"You can. I know you want to read it." She tried to keep her tone light. He looked at her then the book. "You said you weren't going to look a gift horse in the mouth."

He grabbed the book again. "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

###### 

Marta stacked the papers she'd signed off on in a clear tray, arranging them for Martin, the senior editor in chief, to delegate. In between rubbing her temples she vowed to take some business classes later when she had the time. It was late January, which made frost creep over the windows in some of the more unused rooms. Meg had decided to visit friends in warmer weather, and Marta couldn't fault her for that.

Her mother was waiting for her green card to arrive, grabbing the mail every morning with a vigor that made Marta smile and sweat. At least she only looked for her name, skipping all the other letters. Marta hadn't been able to visit or write to Ransom since giving him the book. He'd written two more letters, which sat near the rest on his manuscript in the desk.

_  
Since I'm being forced to work here, I've been getting shifts at the library. It's not the worst. Also I started reading the book. It's different. I go in between liking it and wondering what he was thinking. I don't know if you think like this, but sometimes I read a book, and I think something different should have happened. I'm getting ahead of myself, I'm only halfway through the book, he'll try to trick his readers, he always does.  
Ransom  
_

_  
He did it, and he made the main character, the villain. I knew he would, he was really good at that. He liked to do that, play with people's heads. When I was his research assistant, he'd made me watch people for hours at the park, writing in a little red book for him. I was sure it was a waste of time, but I got better at decoding people too.  
Haven't you got any other letters? Or now that you have my help and I've talked about my book, are you done visiting? Don't get me wrong, they make the time pass.  
Ransom  
_

Beatriz came in her face lit up. "Here's the mail, I got it." She was holding her own letter, wearing a wide smile. "I got it."

"Good job, mama," Marta stood, and her mother wiped tears away from her eyes. Marta came over and held her. "You earned this."

"Thank you," Beatriz's voice cracked. "It's nice not having to hide anymore." She patted Martas back, then waved the leftover mail. "These are for you. I think we should celebrate."

Marta smiled, genuinely for the first time in a long while, as she took the mail. "Whatever you want, do you want to go to our old Chinese place?"

"It's been so long," she exclaimed. "I'll go get ready."

Marta watched her mom go then flicked through the mail. She froze at the plain letter. Her hand shifting it, feeling the weight move from one side to the other. She put a hand to her mouth and covered a shuddering breath. She threw it on the desk. Why?

She threw on her coat and rushed out the front door. Her breath came out in puffs as she rushed to the guardhouse. By the time she got there, her face was flushed, then she was pounding on the door.

Mr. Proofroc opened the door, shocked, "Marta? What's the matter?"

"I need to see the recordings." Marta ran her hands down the front of her shirt, palms sweaty.

He moved to the side, "come in then. Close the door behind you." He went around to the workstation.

Marta shut the door. "Can I see the tape covering the mailbox?"

"That one then," He grunted and pointed to the right screen. He fumbled with the tape, stopping it and then placing it in a different VCR. "Can you explain what we should be looking for."

"Anyone that went to the mailbox."

He started it, fast-forwarding. Marta's eyes skipped over the static and white noise that kept appearing on the video with her brows pinching together in confusion. Mr. Proofroc gave a heavy sigh as it continued. The tape skipped over the image of her mother, grabbing the mail before more static, and the tape made a soft click as it came to a stop.

"Is that it?"

He harrumphed, "this is what I was talking about. The tapes can't keep up."

"You said you'd try to get rid of some of the other cameras?"

"I did," he gestured to a box behind him. "They're in there. It hasn't made a difference."

She shook her head, "what can we do? There has to be something we can do."

"I'll keep testing the cameras, see what works." He began putting everything back together, "sure, whatever reason you're so jumpy will get on these tapes soon enough."

"I hope so," She sighed.

"I'll keep my eyes open too, they're the first cameras humans got." He tapped his head, "and this is my recording."

She smiled and thanked him, brushing off the worry that even her security wasn't good enough. Not that anyone needed to know that. She'd try to keep it to herself. They said their goodbyes. Marta went back to the house to meet her mom and get ready for dinner.

###### 

“I got another letter.” Marta took a seat, the GO board thudding against the floor. 

“Nice to see you too.” Ransom leaned over the table, his jumpsuit had changed to blue. 

She bit the inside of her cheek, “Oh, I’m sorry for being preoccupied.”

“It’s just a prank, Marta.” He tapped the table, “it’s got to be. They're a bunch of cowards remember?”

“And if you’re right?”

“Which I am.” His eyes suddenly narrowed on hers. “Ah, you read my letters after all.”

“I would still come even without the letters.” She began setting up the GO board.

“Sure you would.”

“At the beginning, I wouldn’t have, I mean I didn’t have a reason to come.” She said, “Do you doubt it?”

He shook his head, “no.”

“Good.” She answered, weirdly his aloofness helped. She didn’t feel all the pressure that had built in her stomach since getting the letters. She felt normal.

Marta set down a stone, and they played in silence for a few moments. She waited for him to elaborate over their game of GO like usual. Instead, the tick in his jaw made itself known again. Of all the games they'd played, he'd only won once, but his way of playing had changed. He'd become careful.

"It would be easier if you didn't keep changing your style." 

"Like I told your grandfather. I play to create a beautiful pattern." She placed another stone that put him in atari.

"Every time you mention my grandfather, I feel like shit." His voice was thick.

"I figured it does." She responded.

"Then why do you keep doing it?" He ground out.

"I worked for him for five years, he taught me to play this game, and he's also the reason why we're both here." She sighed and ran her hand over her hair.

She thought he would say more, turn into the asshole from the library. The one that was crazed instead, he managed again to grind out, "Why didn't you respond?"

"What do you mean?"

"I sent you two letters and nothing."

"I was busy."

"Yeah, I get that." He cleared the game and set her stones by her bag, he'd also gotten better dealing with his handcuffs.

"Do you?"

"God, Marta, sometimes you sound so–"

"The word you'd better be thinking of is smart, or kind, or chill."

He snorted. "Chill? Really?"

"Well, what were you going to say."

"Placid."

She rolled her eyes, "such a compliment coming from you."

He sighed, "listen, it may be a small thing to you, but this–" he gestured between them, the tick returning to his jaw. "I don't mind it."

"That's good."

"No, you don't understand." He ran his hand through his hair, the chain swaying. "Thanks."

She smiled, "you're welcome."

He nodded and placed another stone. He won the next game, and he didn't know what to think about that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here's 5! Thank you all for reading and the comments. There are a lot more fics out there and I'm amazed reading them all. I hope you like this addition, the next one is already being started.


	6. Hook, Line, and Sinker

The bedroom Marta had decided to use was not on the top floor, it was hard for her to go up there. Too many memories. Her room was above the office and had a door to the balcony over the driveway. When Marta had tried to sleep in the other bedrooms, they all reminded her of the family. This room didn't even have a bed when she began moving things around. It had a lot of the odd art Harlan collected stored in it and antique furniture. Marta instead loaned most of the pieces to the museum and decided this would be hers. The colors were comfortable, light blue, and beiges, making this the room she felt she belonged in.

Marta sighed into the floor-length mirror. She wanted to do Harlan proud, but she never was the type to like the limelight; it almost made her sick. She took extra care in her makeup and braided her hair into a crown, then wore a dress that was significantly more expensive than she liked. It was going to be a bloodbath. She left her bedroom, then walked down the staircase. 

Her mother came out from the dining room, "Marta, you look wonderful."

"Thank you," she didn't add the 'I wish you would come,' it wouldn't do anything but guilt her. 

They stood waiting for the car to arrive for the event. When it finally pulled up, she kissed her mom on the cheek, put on a coat, and grabbed a clutch. The event was at Blood like Wine — one of the middle skyscrapers in Boston. The brick gothic architecture was old, and like the house, it was acquired in the '80s from the same real estate agent who sold the mansion.

Outside the press were being held back by some additional security, a precaution that she was glad they took. Marta took a deep breath, and suddenly the door was opened by one of the guards. Flashes filled her vision.

_"Ms. Cabrera! Do you regret distancing the family of your deceased employer?"_

_"People claim that this book foretells Mr. Thrombey's suicide, can you give us a blurb?"_

_"Sources claim you were Harlan's mistress, do you have something to say?"_

_"Fans claim that Harlan staged his death for more press, can you clarify?"_

Voices overrode one another as she and security made their way towards the building, claustrophobic even with the path. Once inside the front doors, she tilted her head up to stop her eyes from watering. Martin, who was around his early fifties and bald by choice, coughed to get her attention and directed Marta into one of the elevators. 

"They went a little harder on you then the rest of us. We screened two reporters for the party, they won't be like the ones outside." He grimaced. Marta also noted that he seemed to dress up more so than she had, he looked down at himself as if sensing her thought. "I dress up a lot for these things, I always do. I'm excited for you to meet my wife, Rebecca, by the way."

Marta let the normal conversation penetrate the nerves that built up the last few moments. She tried to remember she was here for work, just like the Thrombeys house parties, she could pull this off. Sticking a smile on her face, she nodded at whatever Martin was saying. The elevator opened, and Martin led her through a long hallway with Harlan's book covers enlarged as art over the walls. She had been on this floor once before, lost when she started. The room at the end was a vast library of reading materials for the editors.

Martin continued to talk, saying she would be the one to reveal Harlan's last book, that all she needed to do was say some nice words. It was a tradition for Harlan to add his latest book onto one of the shelves, now it was hers, something she felt odd about. What right did she have to say something pretty and then drift away? The double doors were propped open, and the floor was filled with people, some she had seen in passing. 

The large room was warm, bookcases, and aisles filled with party-goers, not minding that they had food and drink near all the books. Someone had arranged for a fountain in the middle of the room and a raised dais. A podium with a silk cloth covered the unseen book. It was dramatic, and she found she didn't care for it. Marta gulped.

Marta trailed her eyes over the guests then paused on the vision of Walt Thrombey with his wife, Donna. They stood by a small group of people, and Donna placed a hand on Walt's arm to gesture over at her. Marta also noticed Linda, Joni, Meg, and even Richard in the room. Jacob was missing, but she couldn't fault the 16-year old for not wanting to be here. 

Martin led her to his wife, a charming redhead that eased some of her nerves, at least until Walt suddenly appeared at her side.

"Hello Marta, it's good to see you doing well." His voice, unnaturally loud, causing others to look towards them. 

Marta merely smiled, "It's good to see you too, Walt. How have you been?" 

Obnoxiously loud, he continued. "Well enough. Still grieving, Donna's been a rock through it all." 

"That's good. I'm really glad you could make it." 

Walt was about to say something else when Linda swooped in, "Walter, can you really make any more of a scene."

"Hello, sis, so nice to see you doing so well after your divorce." A couple of people looked over at that then drifted away from what they assumed was a family squabble. 

Linda remained impassive, and Marta saw the resemblance to Ransom, "Funny, I've been here for an hour, and now it's nice to see me."

Walter mumbled something to Linda, who ignored him. Instead, she turned to Marta. "It's good to see you, Marta, how is our home?"

"It's nice, thank you for asking." Tense but still smiling, she recalled how many times she'd been called into political arguments, she could handle this. 

"Good," she pulled a folded paper from her pocket, "here's a list of my requests, they should be easy enough to find."

Marta took the paper and folded it into her clutch without looking. "I'll be sure to cross-reference this with Alan later."

"You do that." Linda tilted her head and then left Walt and Marta alone. 

Marta looked back at Walt, "you were saying?"

"Ye–"

"Hey, kiddo!" Richard came in suddenly, putting a hand on Marta's shoulder. This was one of the few times she had seen him since Ransom's arrest, he looked as if nothing had changed. "Thanks for the invite."

Marta wished she had known about the divorce before sending the invitations out. Steering around the 'how have you been' hanging in the air, she settled for, "It's nice to see you, were you a reader of his? I never got to ask?"

"Harlan? God no, I'm more a watcher." He said, "Is it possible to steal you for a moment?"

Marta hesitated. Between Walt and Richard, it was hard for her to choose who she'd rather be with. "Do you mind, Walt? I'm sure this will be a minute."

Walt rolled his eyes and made his way back to Donna without a word, it was then she noticed Jacob had joined them. They made eye contact, and he quickly looked away, back to his phone. Richard steered her towards the stacks of books near one of the shelves. He didn't look bad, a little more rumpled but very much the same.

"So Marta, I know this is hard for everyone. And I'm probably the last person after my son that you'd want to talk with." If only he knew, she tried to refocus on what he was saying, "–but It's been for the best. Being a black sheep isn't as bad as it seems, but I could use some help."

"And you would like to still be included in the family." She guessed.

"I knew you were smart, kiddo." He smiled, and Marta was glad she was right.

"So, to be clear, you're requesting an allowance?"

His smile became strained. "Only if you want to."

"I don't mind, is there anything else?" She wondered if her own smile matched his.

Richard tilted his head to the side, "how have things been?"

"Fine?" He'd never asked that before. "You got the things from Alan right."

"He passed them over, got to admit, though you were throwing us all out of your life. Worried for a second."

"Why?"

"Because family sticks together," Richard said.

Marta didn't really know what to make about that. Maybe the divorce had changed the Richard she remembered. "They should, and speaking of, I should get back to Walt."

"But you'll check on the allowance." He gestured to her phone.

"I'll send a text now to remind myself to talk with Alan and see what I can do."

"Great, thanks, kiddo." He patted her shoulder again, then almost jarringly slid it down to the middle of her back and pushed her out to the floor. "Don't be a stranger."

Marta shot her eyes to him, but he was already walking away. Her back itched suddenly, and she wanted to leave quickly. This family. Boundaries. She took a glass of water from a nearby caterer and tried to ignore a new prickling sensation on her arms.

Walt appeared again, silent, even with the cane. He put his hand on her arm to get her attention, and she jumped a little. He held his arms up in surrender. 

"Sorry about that." He joked.

"No, it's fine. I'm sorry you keep getting interrupted." She replied, taking a sip of water she tried to smile. "What is it you were saying?"

"I was wondering," he scratched the tip of his nose, "what would it take for you to sell me the rights to one of dad's books."

Marta scrunched her brows together, "what do you mean?"

"Well, I started my own publishing company. It's doing good so far– a lot of opportunities."

"That's wonderful," Marta said, "but why would you need the rights to one of Harlan's books?"

"Well, you know that for a while now I've wanted to see one of his books transition to the big screen. With the rights, I could do that." At her look he continued. "It seems fair, and it doesn't need to be one of the recent ones. But I've cultivated these books, I understand them. It doesn't even matter which one, I mean out of two hundred I could just pick a slip out of the hat. It's easy money, Marta." 

She bit her lip, "I'm sorry, Walt, I don't think I can do that."

Walt's eyes darkened, "no?"

"Not right now, a lot is going on with the new book, and I'm working out other avenues with the publishers." She also would need more experienced eyes and ears to understand what he was really asking.

"Are you thinking of making movies of my father's books?"

"It hasn't crossed my mind." She said. 

"I see." Walt stared her down. He turned his back on her. Without saying goodbye, he walked back to Donna. She watched him whispering in Donna's ear. They both looked up at her and turned to leave. Both gesturing swiftly for Jacob to join them, though he was pouring water into one of the office plants.

Marta spun around, looking desperately for a friendly face. Seeing the bright red hair from Rebecca was a godsend. She rushed over and joined the conversation. 

"Are you alright, dear? You look pale?"

"I just need some more water." She took another drink. It made her feel better for the moment. Someone called her name from behind her. Joni and Meg entered the group.

"Marta! It's so nice to see you." Joni said, giving her a hug and kissing both of Martas cheeks. "You look great, have you used my newest product?"

"Yes, my mother thought the smell was unique." that wasn't the only word she'd used. She felt her throat burn. Half-truths.

"Good!"

Meg joined and gave Marta her own hug without the kisses. "Thanks for having us, the event looks amazing."

"You're welcome. I wouldn't want anyone to miss this," Marta added.

"Yes, yes," Joni said. "Thank you for the allowance, by the way. It's really helped."

"Harlan wanted the family together." Marta said, "I'm trying to do that."

They both nodded. Marta made attempts at small chat and rubbed her clammy hands on her dress. She was glad she'd stop wandering and just stood and talked. Sometime later, Martin came to her elbow. 

"Are you ready, Marta?" He gestured towards the podium. Marta pardoned herself and went over to the raised dais.

She finished her water and grabbed a knife. Martin followed and assisted her onto the podium, some of the chatter had died down when she stood slightly raised over everyone. Still, she took her knife and lightly clicked it to the glass. 

"Hello everyone, thank you all for being here," she said, her accent thick. "Many of you have worked with Harlan for many years. This is a day many of us never saw coming. His last book release. It's hard to get past that. His stories have been a part of all our lives, _Hook, Line, and Sinker_ was the first story he'd ever published." Marta made eye contact with a couple of people in the room, then settled on Linda. "And I would like to invite his daughter Linda to share his last."

Linda was visibly startled and watched as the sea of eyes turned her way with applause, she composed herself and made her way to the podium. Marta stood and watched Martin help her onto the stage. Linda looked a little lost, an odd look for her.

Marta quickly came over and clasped her hands and whispered, "It's only right." 

Linda seemed to blink back something Marta couldn't identify. She cleared her throat and perhaps was the quietest Marta ever heard her as she thanked her. Marta stood off to the side and rubbed some sweat from the back of her neck. 

Linda went to the podium and continued where Marta left off. "My father loved to play games, and like many of you, we learned how to play his." She wiped a tear from her eye. "I'm happy to say we have his books to keep us together. He was typically the one to do this, but I am more than happy to step in his place."

Linda slowly pulled the red satin from the podium, revealing a cover with a magnifying glass with the blade of a knife for its handle, _Knives Out_ , stared at everyone from its seat. Linda gingerly took the book in her hands and went to the shelf behind her, sliding it into the other books. She let her hand trail on the spine and began to applaud with everyone else.

Marta clapped as well but couldn't focus on the noise. She swayed gently to the side and caught herself on the beverage table. Someone or a couple of people gasped. Someone called out to get her a chair. Then she hit the floor hard. Someone screamed, and darkness became the only thing she knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I'm so excited to get this one out, and though it took a while I rushed. I'm hoping everything still flows well after this chapter, I have a larger outline done which should help but I worry for inconsistencies. Thank you so much for all the comments, and for even stopping to read. I hope I can continue to push this out. Also a happy late Valentine's and happy Presidents Day to you all, I need to add some more Ransom I definitely missed him this chapter.


	7. Singers Flight

Marta blinked, rolling her head to the side. Breathing tubes around her ears and nose tugged at her uncomfortably. Her mother was looking out the sunny window in one of the hospital chairs. Taking in the number of fluids she was being given gave her pause. It was weird to be the one nursed. She shifted slowly, trying to raise herself up. 

“ _Mija?_ ” Her mother jerked forward and took Marta's hand.

Marta winced, but she didn't pull away, "What happened?"

Beatriz began to cry, her body racking with sobs. "Oh, thank god, I prayed so hard for you."

"Mom, it's okay." Marta tried to soothe her. "What happened?"

"Someone tried to poison you Mija, I told you that I didn't like this." Beatriz stroked her hand.

"What type of poison?"

"The doctors are running tests, but you should rest. I told your sister you were okay, and she shouldn't worry."

"You told her?"

"It was on the news." She got up, "stay right here, I'll get you some water."

Marta wanted to laugh, it wasn't like she could go anywhere. When her mother came back, she brought a nurse.

"Good to see you awake." She went around and checked the fluids, looking at the numbers on the bags. "We had to flush your system and gave you a transfusion."

Marta nodded, "poison?"

"It seems that way. We were notified to tell the police when you woke up. They should be here shortly. But the doctor would like to talk to you first."

By the time the doctor arrived, Marta had convinced her mother that she needed to rest. The doctor explained that she had been in a coma for three days. Marta took the information in slowly like she was watching someone else receive the information. Then Detective Lieutenant Elliott and Trooper Wagner made their way into the room. Trooper smiled and waved.

"It's good to see you again, Marta."

Lieutenant Elliott elbowed the Trooper, "though it would be better under different circumstances."

Marta almost smiled, "did they tell you what type of poison?"

"From the lab results, it was a poison that was absorbed into the skin. After you were flushed and you were given a blood transfusion, you stabilized." The Lieutenant said. He gave an appropriate pause before he continued his questions. "What can you tell us of that night?"

"Wait? What day is it?" 

"It's the third of March." 

Resting her hands on her lap, she tried to think, it was still hard for her to believe. She started at the beginning of the party. Working through the events, being led away by the Thrombeys, feeling thirsty, revealing the book. The Lieutenant and Trooper took it all in slowly as Marta had. When she was finished, they began asking questions.

"Aside from this has anything unusual happened." 

Marta licked her lips, "I got two letters in the mail. I called and left a message for you about it."

The Lieutenant looked startled and looked to Trooper, who shrugged his shoulders. "I see." 

"You didn't get it."

"No."

Marta wanted to say she understood but couldn't form the words, "I should have tried to contact the police again, it all seemed like too much."

"You found yourself in a tough place, this past year hasn't exactly been easy." Trooper Wagner nodded sympathetically, "Still, that error is on our end."

The Lieutenant agreed, "Do you still have the letters?"

"Yes, and they're yours." Marta said.

"Anyone else know about them?" He penned into a small notebook, writing down whatever seemed important.

"Ransom."

"You went to Ransom Drysdale for help." Trooper Wagner's face was pinched in disbelief, Lieutenant Elliot just narrowed his gaze.

"Now, why would you do that?"

"I know how it sounds." Marta sighed, should she mention his manuscript? "I thought he could help, and he did."

"And how do you know he would help?" Lieutenant Elliot persisted. "Don't you have a restraining order on him?"

"I got rid of it." She said. "The letters didn't have anything other than the blue powder, so I thought that it was like the letter he'd sent me when Harlan's death was being investigated. But he was in prison, so I knew it couldn't be him."

"Someone physically delivered it to your house, and you thought he might know who." He finished, and she nodded. 

Marta leaned back into the bed, relieved that the police were handling it. They asked more questions, and she repeated how many times she had been in physical contact with people at the party. She grew tired, and both Lieutenant Elliot and Trooper Wagner apologized that they missed her first message again. They left saying they were going to question the Thrombeys, for her to take it easy, and they'd be in touch.

The doctor came soon after saying they should keep her for two more days. Marta wearily agreed, understanding they wanted to monitor her. She picked at her food, better than she thought, before going in and out of sleep. 

When she woke later her room was stuffed with flowers, some were from the Thrombeys, The messages _Get Well Soon_ had never looked so ominous. Her mother had brought her phone from home. Marta sorted through emails and tried to reply to messages saying all was well. After, even though she hadn't wanted to– she looked herself up.

The page filled with news and videos. She clicked one then skipped through the newscaster to get to the clip. The footage switched to someone filming on their phone in the middle of people at the party. Watching herself faint was not easy, but she saw the after-effects, people running, a scream. Linda was yelling at a man in a suit to call an ambulance. The video cut out there.

Marta wanted to know who poisoned her just as much as the news did. She wasn't joking when she'd said she wanted peace. It seems unfair that she hadn't already gotten it when she'd surely earned it. She pushed the thought from her mind. She sent an email to Sally that she would like to speak to Alan as soon as he was able and explained she was on her way home.

Changing into her clothes, she could've wept. She felt like she had her identity back. The nurse from before went through the paperwork for her discharge. She used her phone to secure a private cab. The drive back home wasn't fun. Still, she tried to be polite when he asked questions about who she was visiting. It was nice that he didn't seem to care who she was.

When they made it down the street to the house, Marta ducked deeper into the seat. News vans parked on the side of the road leading up to the property. Mr. Proofroc certainly had his job cut out for him. Parked and out of the car, the house looked as if it loomed over her. She pushed her way in and took off her coat.

"Mom?" She called out. No answer. Marta looked into the study, a large pile of mail sat on the desk. Marta pulled out the chair then began going through the stack. Lawyers' information made its way into the trash. One letter from the prison, which she opened immediately. 

_I'm sorry I was a jerk when you came to play GO. I know, writing those words is easier than say them. I'm working on the Granddad thing– I'm trying not to be a shit. Thinking this much can't be good for me. Visit again when you can, if you still want to. I do have things to talk to you about. This letter isn't going to do a damn thing is it? Maybe we should have tried something from the 21st century and stuck to phones.  
Ransom_

Such a difference from where they started, though it ended in typical Ransom fashion. She didn't want to think of the mess he'd make if he called, and her mother answered the phone. She set the letter down and saw she'd received another postcard from Fran.

Marta sorted through her emails, attempting to clean up more of this mess. She made an appointment to visit Ransom at the prison. Alice left a message on her answering machine, panicked. 

"Hey sis, Jesus, you better be alright. It's all kinds of fucked up that I found out about this on the news. I already called mom, you should leave. I know I like the crime shows and shit but not when its your life. Call me."

Marta sighed. Her hand tightened on her cell. Instead, she called and asked for Alan to be there in the hour. Marta was almost methodical with everything. Her hair was greasy, and she hadn't eaten since yesterday. Forcing a bit of self-care, she went into the kitchen and grabbed a drinkable yogurt, tugging at the clothes she had on.

The shower on the second floor was large. She lumped the clothes on the counter before stepping into the glass case. The water only took seconds to heat. Steam rose from the showerhead. For the first time in her life, Marta ate in the shower. She swallowed gulps of yogurt until it was empty. Then she popped the door open and dropped it in the trash.

She was more than a little generous with the soap. Scrubbing parts of her body that ached gently, then washing her hair thoroughly, just to feel clean. Really she wanted to rub her skin raw, but that wouldn't help. Finally, the water began to chill, and she turned off the faucet. Wrapping herself in a plush towel that made her feel human. 

Time felt slow. Marta took deep breaths to calm herself as she redressed. Back on the first floor, she sat next to the fireplace, and she waited for Alan to arrive. He knocked on the door with the same severity as when he came to read the will.

"Marta." Sally followed him in as he clasped Marta's hand. "I'm glad you're doing well."

"I am too."

"Glad to see being paranoid has paid off." Alan said. "This is still a grave issue, and I understand why you might want to make changes to the will."

"Later." She gestured wearily to the study, "please take a seat. Forgive me, I'm still a little tired." 

Alan raised a questioning glance but did as instructed. Marta took her seat, she'd wondered about this for a while and began to put the thoughts into words. 

"I know that I might seem fragile at the moment, but I've given this a lot of thought. You're aware that I have been in contact with Ransom. I would like him to be placed here– either on parole or under house arrest. It doesn't matter."

Alan was silent, "Ms. Cabrera, you must be joking?"

"Marta, remember?" She gave a halfhearted smile.

"Marta, you can't be serious." He kept his tone even, but Marta already knew how crazy this all was. 

"I am, if you would like to know my reasoning, he's not going to try anything."

"All due respect Marta, a zebra doesn't change his stripes."

"I'm not expecting that, but I want him here all the same." She wanted his information, mostly, and he couldn't help her find who was targeting her from in a cell. A small part of her, a darker part said that if he was here maybe the Thrombeys might leave her alone, but she silenced it. "I don't expect it to make sense to you, but it's what I feel I have to do."

"I see." 

"Good. Alan, I'm sorry to trouble you. But how long till I can expect this with our resources."

"Maybe two weeks."

She took a slow breath. "Then, I'll start preparing over here."

###### 

Marta parked the car outside the prison. It had already been two days since Alan had started his task, including meeting with Ransom. Marta could only imagine what he was thinking. But they were friends, in a twisted sort of way. On her way in, the guards took longer to inspect her, she assumed they were curious– especially with the news. She waited to be led back into the room. 

Ransom stood by the table. His beard had grown in. It was weird to focus on that now. She stopped for a moment, he looked mad. Deciding to ignore it, Marta came and sat down at the table. He joined her. The traditional staring match beginning between them.

Marta finally began. "We should really stop these staring contests," 

"Jesus Marta? A fucking joke?"

She smiled, "I'm trying to find the humor in it all."

"Someone tried to kill you."

"It's not the first time."

"Can you take this," he gestured between them, the handcuffs clanking, "a bit seriously."

"Don't you think I am? Besides, you already knew this was happening." She bit down on her lip, god she hated how she probably looked close to tears but she was so mad that everything came down to this. "You're the one that wrote the book and knew what the blue powder meant. Remember that the letters were supposed to be a joke?" She shook her head.

"Alan contacted me. Why are you trying to release me?"

"Because I think it'll help."

"Marta– why?"

She shrugged, "Because, we're honest with each other, at least now we are."

"You can't trust that."

"I can."

"You shouldn't."

"Why?"

"Because I could be using you."

"I know." She sighed.

"You don't act like you know." He tried to run a hand down his face. "You act like you aren't afraid of me at all."

Marta laughed, "I told you I wouldn't lie to you, so believe me when I say you scare me for a lot of reasons," She tilted her head to the side, "mostly the idea of being used by you again keeps me awake at night."

"You're infuriating."

"And you need to work on your anger." Marta leaned back, "So are you in?"

He stared at his hands for a moment before meeting her eyes. "What about the restraining order?"

"I got rid of that after our first visit."

He shook his head and mumbled something about self-preservation. "It's like you want to be murdered."

"I think that's a little dramatic." She rolled her eyes, and she gestured between them, "this is self-preservation. Whoever poisoned me did it from the idea of your book, that means something."

"It does."

"So for the last time, are you willing to fuck your family and help me go all the way."

At that, he laughed, "You win. I'll be on model behavior for the rest of the time I'm here."

She backed off from visitation for the time being, but he said he would send letters while Alan assisted in his release. That day when Marta came back home, she saw her mother on the porch. Her stance indicated she was not pleased. Marta parked and got out of her car.

"Marta Cabrera, get into the house this instant."

Marta followed her mother into the house and waited for her mother to calm down or say what was on her mind. Instead, her mother cursed in Spanish and then apologized to the lord. Marta took in the packed bags and, with a sinking feeling, waited for her mother to speak.

"Marta, you're a grown woman, but you are still my daughter. What are you doing?"

"Everything is going to be okay mom, I promise."

"You said that before," Beatriz said. "But you've changed, this isn't you. Someone is trying to kill you!"

"Mom, I'm still me." and Marta meant it, or else she'd be puking in the Chinese vase beside her. 

"No," she waved her arm around, "this is changing you. We can go. Leave, see your sister."

"But Harlan–"

"I hate that man. Marta, if he hadn't done what he did then–" she tried to catch her breath. "Marta, pack up we are leaving."

"I'm not going."

"You are choosing death. _Muerte_." her mother stopped shaking. "If you do not go, I won't let you be around your sister." 

Marta blinked back tears, "I know."

"You know?" Beatriz let out a breath and slumped, "you really have changed."

"I'm not going to be scared out of this." Marta tried to control her emotions. "Your citizenship, Alice's schooling, I'm helping people." 

"El Precio es demasiado alto Mija." Her mother put her hand on her shoulder, "I'm leaving tomorrow. If you don't come…" She let it hang in the air between them. In silence, she grabbed her bags and walked out the door.

Marta stood in the room, suddenly too big. She walked over to the painting of Harlan and finally wept.

###### 

In the time her mother left, she began to prepare for Ransom. She had one main goal, standing in the library with a box, she began taking apart the ring of knives. Some of them were real. If Ransom had grabbed one of the other stiletto knives or the bayonet beside the fake, she would be dead. She put them all, including the ax, in the same box. Then walked all the way up to the small attic in one of the spires. Back in the library, the ring looked empty. She'd ask Thomas to help her move it later. 

Marta would be lying if she said her nerves hadn't grown since her decision, but so long as no one asked about it, then she wouldn't worry. She was trying to help the process along. She hadn't heard from any of the Thrombeys since the poisoning. Aside from the flowers at the hospital, Meg was the only one to have left a voicemail. 

" _Marta, I hope you're okay. Mom was really worried. Some cops came by and told us it was poison. That sounds scary, look the family's here if you need us._ "

Marta hadn't called back because of everything else. She'd finally gone for a jog earlier today and was practically dying before she even made it to the gate. Her body felt out of use, and she felt even more like an open book than before she worked for them. She could only imagine how she'd be with everyone else, especially since it was likely one of them did it.

Back at the house, she took extra care with her appearance. Today she needed to testify on Ransom's behalf. The entire drive to Alan's office, she talked herself into believing this wasn't going to be a mistake. When they met up, Alan directed her to another car that led to one of Boston's smaller courthouses. 

Alan had described their goal and her part. It was simple, testify and say she believed Ransom was reformed, that he didn't mean to kill her. That last bit would be hard, in fact, it all would. She tried to get it across to Alan that even though he'd never seen her vomit from lying, that it was very much a real thing. He just shook his head like he didn't believe it. 

Inside the courthouse, the air was chilled even for summer. Marta, Alan, and Sally sat outside a room on a bench. Marta hadn't attended Ransom's first trial, the one that sent him to jail. She took it all in regardless, the long white hallway, glass windows covered in blinds she assumed were offices for public defenders. This was not the type of court she saw portrayed on television. Just in case, She made sure to note where the bathroom was.

Other people littered the hall. She wondered if they were defendants or witnesses. She wondered if they even cared about why she was there also. The door opened by a guard in a tan suit. "New cases, Whitmore, Drysdale, Cruger, and Smith come in."

Alan got up, and Marta followed in after him. It was plain to see from the other lawyers present that Alan was the most expensive one in the room. 

Marta sat on the bench and waited again for instruction. Once everyone was inside, a door beside a man sitting with a typewriter was opened. The judge came out. Opposite of him, another door opened with a guard leading three men, and Ransom chained together out to a spot on the bench. 

"Case 431-NJ-477 Robert Smith, parole hearing." The judge droned on. Marta was trying to pay attention, looking at Ransom. He kept his gaze forward, then eventually met her eyes and nodded. The man's attorney and him pleaded his case, and the ruling was denied. It was awful how quickly it went. 

Marta shifted in her seat nervously and looked at Ransom. He nodded and mouthed, "It'll be okay." Strangely comforting. The man led back to his seat next to Ransom, and the guard switched behind Ransom's chair. 

"Case 872-NM-173 Hugh R. Drysdale, move to house arrest." Ransom was led to the defendant's seat standing as Alan moved and joined his side. The inquiry into the case had Alan discussing Ransom's behavior in prison, as well as this being his first offense. The judge listened bored. 

"Furthermore, the charges of second-degree murder should be dropped because of the impossibility of murder to being carried out."

"How so?" The judge asked.

"The knife was retractable, a stage prop."

"And you're saying your client knowingly used a stage prop."

"I am," Alan stated.

"It says here someone is here to testify on behalf?" The judge continued. "Marta Cabrera, please rise."

Marta rubbed her sweaty hands on her slacks, then stood up straight. "Here."

"Ms. Cabrera, from the case files gathered, it appears you were the intended victim."

Marta looked at Alan and nodded, "Yes."

"And you believe he wasn't attempting to murder you."

Her throat constricted, acid sat in her throat. Be as honest as possible, she thought. "I think he was just trying to scare me."

The judge hummed and turned to Ransom, "and were you trying to scare her?"

"I was." Ransom clenched his jaw. Alan and him continued, Marta slowly sitting back down. Alan was good. The judge seemed to shift his demeanor and turned to her again. 

"Ms. Cabrera? If I may say so, the purpose of the court is to make sure that criminals do not repeat offenses."

Marta stood again, "And I believe that I am in no danger from Hugh."

"There is a lot of news surrounding you." The judge tapped the podium, "I find it hard to believe that he was just trying to scare you. You really think that was all?"

"Yes." More acid, her eyes watered as she grasped for straws of truth. "He isn't the type to do things halfheartedly, I would be dead if he wanted me to be." She needed to find the bathroom fast.

"Is that supposed to help his defense?"

"It's supposed to show it was a joke. That was all I wanted to say, he's a good person that made a mistake, one I've forgiven him for."

"I see then." The judge nodded, "the court rules in favor of Hugh R. Drysdale."

Ransom seemed mildly stunned, even though he seemed fine prior. His eyes wide and mouth parted. He was too good at hiding his nerves, and she might need to talk to him about that. She got up and quickly left for the restroom. Bent over a toilet as she emptied the contents of her stomach. The worst part was she didn't know which part outside of the plan was a lie. 

Eventually, she returned and stayed for the rest of the rulings since it was only polite. Ransom shot her questioning glances in between staring off into the distance. Court closed, and he was led back with the others. Alan and Sally flanked her as they led her back out to the car. 

"What's next?" she asked.

"He should be on his way back to jail. I'll have the paperwork drawn up to have him placed at your house for arrest. Which should be for the remainder of the year." Alan held out his hand. "Congratulations Marta, you won."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hard one to put together, but it's here! Thank you all for reading and commenting, I really can't thank anyone enough. Awards season was a treat so that we could see everyone in this movie relax and support one other in other roles. There's a lot I could say, but I can't even find the words (haha) So I'll settle for replying to the comments I missed and once again thanking everyone from the bottom of this fic.


	8. The Castles Nail

It took two weeks for the technicians from the county to set up the area for house arrest. Marta signed multiple documents and tried to balance the additional technicians setting up the house. She overheard two techs talking about how the house was huge and how rich prisoners always managed to cheat the system. She ignored it. They placed additional clips around the perimeter of the house plot. Then she was told when he arrived, he would already be wearing his ankle bracelet.

Ransom was literally delivered to her house in a prison van, still cuffed, wearing the clothes that he’d been arrested in. They hung a little limply in places. Marta was standing on the porch, just like yesterday, the weather was nice, even surrounding these unusual events. Ransom was led out then brought to her, when he was close enough she noticed his eye was black.

“Jesus!” she said, looking between all three of them. “What happened?”

“It’s nothing,” he said. He gave a face that she interpreted as ‘I’ll tell you later.’ 

Marta pursed her lips, “I was told you would need a signature.” One of the officers handed out a clipboard, and Marta filled in her information at the Xs. The awkward sound of her writing is the only sound between them. “Here.”

The officer checked the document, nodded, and motioned to the other to uncuff Ransom.

“Can’t say I’ll miss those,” he rotated his wrists. 

The guards both nodded their goodbyes then got into the van. Leaving Ransom and Marta alone for the first time since the car chase really. He seemed to hesitate, and she narrowed her eyes. 

“Come in. I made extra coffee.”

He nodded and followed her into the house to the kitchen. Marta was very aware that this entire time she left her back to him. She ignored the tingling at the base of her spine.

She pulled two cups from the cupboard and motioned to him, “Will you grab the pot.” She didn’t want to acknowledge the awkwardness of it all. Maybe he didn’t know how to handle it either, he just did as she asked for the moment. “And the creamer?” 

He grabbed it and set in next to her too. She was shaking. Her breath coming out in giant puffs. She pressed her hands against the top of the counter, trying to ground herself.

“You can stop pretending Marta.” His tone was gentle.

“Stop pretending? What do you mean?” She gasped. 

“You know what I mean.”

“I think I’m having a panic attack.”

“You are.” He moved beside her pouring the coffee in her _My House, My Rules, My Coffee_ mug. “Take a drink.”

“I just need a moment.” She held her hands covering her face. She took a deep breath and took the coffee, gulping the hot liquid black. 

“Never took you for a psychopath.”

She sputtered, “excuse me?”

He poured a heavy dose of creamer in his coffee, “Only psychos drink their coffee black.”

Laughter bubbled out before she could help it. She took extra sips of her coffee in between the laughter. “This was so stupid.”

“I can’t deny that.”

“I’m alone with you.” Her tone evened out.

“Really? No one else here?”

“the groundskeeper and Mr. Proofroc’s still here.”

He hummed, “feeling better?”

“I think I am, thanks.”

“Are you sure, because I could go into another room?”

“I think that would be worse.”

He shrugged, “maybe, I guess we’ll find out one way or another.”

She took her coffee, still a little shaky, “I can show you to your room unless you want a different one?”

“Is it the brown room?”

“It is.”

“Then, it’s fine.”

“Your box of stuff is still in there.”

“My sweater?”

“It’s the middle of summer.”

“I love that sweater.” he leaned against the counter. “Thanks, Marta.”

“Can I check your eye?”

He grimaced, “do you have too.”

“What happened?” 

“Parting gift.”

“Guard or prisoner?” She sat down the coffee and went to the freezer, and grabbed a package of blueberries making sure to break it up in her hands. “This or steak?”

“That– please.” He grabbed it, then put it to his eye. “Prisoner. He said it was part of an initiation.” 

She looked skeptical. “Are you sure he didn’t just want to punch you?”

“It could have been that too.”

She paused, “please don’t take this the wrong way, but you seem– self-aware.”

“I’ve read a lot of granddads books, spent a lot of time using the commissary, practicing GO. I’m still me, just tired.” He shifted the bag, “don’t take this the wrong way, but this is just a prettier prison.”

“It is.” she finished her coffee and rinsed it out. “But you’re lucky to be here. Most people under house arrest don’t have a library and fourteen different rooms to be in.” he shot her a dark look, but she held her ground. “This is a lecture, and I know you hate those. But this is a privilege for you.”

“I wonder if I should call you Mrs. Freeze?”

She rolled her eyes, “there he is.”

“Doctor Frost, maybe?

“I’m not a doctor.”

“Come on, it’s a game.” He took a sip of his coffee then added more creamer, “you can play too.”

Marta put her mug away. “Bitter man, sweet tooth.”

He choked, “See, that wasn’t hard.” he pounded on his chest, “Shit.”

“I think I’m going to let you get reacquainted with the house.”

“Why? Did you make any big changes?”

“Just in the library.”

She didn’t need to say it, he just knew. “Well, I’ll stay out of your way.”

“Okay, see you for dinner?”

“Not like I’ll be anywhere else.”

###### 

They saw each other in passing a lot in the house. He was usually only a room away or lost somewhere she’d have to hunt him out. She felt stupid for not realizing that house arrest truly meant that he would always be there. 

The first week was the hardest. She accidentally screamed when she saw him in the study, he at least got up and left after that. He knew when to not push his teasing, something that had definitely changed since prison.

They ate breakfast together sometimes, Marta wasn’t a bad cook, she could boil an egg. Ransom was better. She came down one day and saw a quiche cooling on the counter, she wondered if Cecilia stopped by but was shocked when Ransom came in to check on it.

“You cook?”

“Sometimes,” he said.

She watched as he came over and cut a slice for her. He put it on a plate and handed it to her. Then he grabbed one for himself and took a bite. “It’s good, at least I think so.”

“What recipe?” She took a bite, tasting potatoes, onion, and bacon. 

“Great nana’s.”

“Do you want her to visit?”

“Should she?” He asked suddenly, he still had his beard and his hair was a touch long. 

“I don’t see why not if you want I could let the entire family know.” She took another bite.

“Just nana is fine.”

She nodded and began to go back to the study, “okay, and it is good.” She left without waiting for a response.

###### 

Marta came back from a jog with dogs when they raced ahead through the gate, suddenly she heard Ransom yell “Goddamnit!”

She rushed through the gate, “Ricky! Martin!”

The dogs excitedly jumped over Ransom, hoping and playfully nipping at his pants. Marta rushed and brushed them away, finding one of their toys she chucked it as far as she could. They booked after it, giving them a few seconds. “Are you okay?”

“Never better, you named the dogs after Ricky Martin?”

“Everyone just called them dogs.” The came back, and she threw the toy again, further this time.

“That’s what they are.” He said with mock gravity. “They’re for security.”

“I know, but they’re dogs.” 

“They probably don’t know one name from the other.”

She lifted a brow and whistled, “Ricky!” One dog broke away from getting the toy and darted back, colliding into Marta. “Good boy,” she grabbed the toy from Martin. Before she tossed it again, saying, “Martin stay.” Then threw it so Ricky could fetch, Martin stayed like she knew he would. She smiled and praised both dogs, then let them rush off.

“Now, that was definitely a mistake.” She enjoyed the dumbfounded look on his face a little too much.

She snorted, “You just don’t like to be wrong.”

“Those are different dogs, they’ve got to be.”

“I think you should spend more time with them.”

“No, thank you.”

She shook her head, “what are you even doing out here, anyway?”

“I wanted some air.”

“Well, you definitely got it. I’m going to go inside, enjoy yourself.”

###### 

Later a knock on the door sounded around dinner. Thinking it was the Chinese they’d ordered, Marta didn’t bother to check the peephole. So when Lieutenant Elliot and Trooper Wagner made eye contact with Ransom, she knew this was not going to go well. The three men were tense, and Marta wondered how she could defuse the situation, the sound of a car came up the driveway. 

“There’s the Chinese.” She shot Ransom a look, and then smiled at the officers, “please come in, this will take just a moment.” She left and grabbed the bags giving the driver a big tip while she hoped Ransom would shut his mouth enough for her to smooth things out. Back at the house, they’d moved to the study, all sitting down tense across the lit fireplace.

“Marta, can you explain what is going on?” Lieutenant Elliot asked.

Marta placed the Chinese on the hallway bench then joined them crossing her arms. “What do you mean?”

“Why is Ransom here?”

“You could just ask me.” He rolled his eyes.

“Quite Buffalo Bill.” Trooper Wagner said. Ransom put a fake key in his mouth and tossed it. 

“He’s been moved here for house arrest.” Marta said, “He also knows his family, and I figured it would be good to have him here.” She was getting better at telling half-truths. Though the Lieutenant didn’t seem to believe it.

“Marta, is he threatening you?”

“No.” She breathed a sigh of relief, “He’s really here to try and help.”

All three men eyed her warily, Ransom had a look on his face that seemed to wait for her to puke whenever she said anything remotely kind about him. Trooper looked disappointed, and the Lieutenant looked speculative.

“How can he help?”

“He was Harlan’s research assistant for a summer,” Marta answered. Ransom’s gaze sharpened on her after that.

“So you know already about the letter she got and the poisoning attempt.” The Lieutenant directed to Ransom.

“Oh? Am I allowed to speak now.”

Trooper sighed, “I didn’t miss this guy.”

“That hurts,” he shifted in his seat, “Yes, I know about the letter and the poisoning. And before you ask, no, I don’t want it happening again.”

“Noted, and do you have any insight as to how the two of them are connected?” Lieutenant Wagner had pulled out a notepad.

“Cobalt is derivative of “kobold,” a hobgoblin in german folktales. These kobolds lived in dark and solitary places like mine shafts. The connection between these two is from two of the elements ores cobaltite and smaltite, which contains arsenic. Miners who mined for cobalt would get sick and blame the hobgoblins for their misfortune. The ores contain a blue hue.” At the blank looks surrounding him, he finished. “What? I was a decent assistant.”

“So, the poison is related to the color?” Trooper added.

“Roughly,” Ransom finished.

“Well,” the Lieutenant intoned, then coughed. “I’m sure you already know that it’s a member of your family doing this.”

“So, I’ve gathered from the state of things.”

The Lieutenant’s voice was heated, “Do you think this is funny? Are you trying to make up for what you did?”

“Sadly, no, and I’m already a lost cause.”

Marta went over and pinched his arm, shocking them both. “Stop that.” She flushed, the heat creeping up her neck. Turning back to the police, “Ransom is doing the best he can. We are just waiting to see if something else happens before we notify the police.”

“So long as you two don’t try to solve this. This isn’t a game.” The Lieutenant said. Ransom gave a little ‘Heuh’ next to her, and she would’ve kicked him if she could.

“We aren’t trying to solve it, just narrow things down or see if something else happens.”

“What happened to your mom Marta?” Trooper asked.

She felt another questioning glance from Ransom, as Marta replied throat tight, “She left to visit my sister in Indiana.” 

“Even after the hospital?”

Three pairs of eyes watched her as she worked through how to answer that. “She said it wasn’t safe, and she wanted me to make a choice, either this or our family. She thinks I chose this.” The room was met with silence at that statement. Marta sniffed, breaking it. “Sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” The Lieutenant added.

“I don’t know? Everything.” Her eyes stung, and she hated that she felt so vulnerable. “Frankly, I’m close to losing my mind. I don’t know if any choices I’m making are the right ones or the wrong ones. I’ve been harassed, poisoned, and got someone who tried to kill me out of jail. And Benoit won’t answer his fucking phone!” She rubbed at her eyes. “Like I said, it’s been a lot, and I don’t want to take it out on any of you.”

“It’s okay, Marta.” Trooper Wagner patted her arm. “We’ll find who did this.”

“I know you will.” She ran a hand over her hair and smoothed it out. “I believe you will.”

“Good.” the Lieutenant said. “I should tell you that the Thrombeys have been questioned on and off these past two weeks. So far, nothing abnormal seems to be going on with them. Even if they are the prime suspects.”

“That’s reassuring,” Marta replied. 

“Look here is my direct business card,” The Lieutenant said, handing over the crisp rectangle. “If you need anything if anyone is suspicious. We will drop everything and be there.”

“Thank you very much.”

“Now, we’re sorry we interrupted your dinner.” He gestured to Trooper Wagner, and Marta followed them to the front door.

Marta, still feeling bad from her outburst, looked through the bag for two of the extra fortune cookies to give them both. “I’m sorry for the trouble.”

“Hey– Hey– we’re here for you.” He looked over her shoulder into the study, “for anything.”

She nodded and let them out, locking the door behind them. The fireplace crackled as she grabbed the Chinese food bags then made her way into the study. Sitting on the chair diagonal to Ransom, she began to sort out the food. He was watching her, and her movements were jerky as she placed the boxes on the glass table with old guns.

“Marta.”

“Yes?”

“Are you okay.”

“Ransom, are you showing human emotion?”

A smile broke across his face, briefly. “Are you going to have another panic attack?”

“No.” she snorted and looked up. He didn’t look like he was joking, so she repeated herself. “No.”

“Your mom lived here?”

She grabbed a box of chow mein, “She did. Does that bother you?”

“Why would it bother me?” he asked incredulously, “and we’re not going to make this about me. I still have questions for you.”

“Your family has been very vocal about some of us.” She left the word race out.

“We’ve discussed this, my family is full of assholes. Hell, I am an asshole.”

“We were working on her citizenship. She was going to classes too. Last I heard I made sure Alan could help her and Alice in Indiana until they come back.” 

“Which is?”

“I don’t know.” She sniffed, “I just need everything to be worth it– because if it’s not...”

He nodded, leaned forward, and grabbed the box of chow mein from her, taking a bite. “Then it’ll have all been for nothing. I know the feeling well.”

“I suppose you would.”

He grunted, “You didn’t really answer my question.”

“Well, what were you really asking?”

“How do you feel when she left?”

She wanted to ask if he actually cared. Instead, she chewed and swallowed another mouthful of food. “I felt alone. Does it matter?”

“It does.” He said. 

Marta shook her head, “I can’t blame her. Even if she stayed, I would have wanted her to go.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s safer for her.”

“But not for you.” He added, his tone becoming brisk. 

“I knew that,” Her tone became defensive. “But she couldn’t handle it, and that’s not her fault.”

“I think it is.”

“It’s not. You know it’s not.” She set down her fork. Looking at him, hunched over a Chinese carton. His eyes cloudy with a tick in his jaw. “Is this about something else?”

“No.”

“I can’t help you unless you tell me the truth.” She said calmly.

He got up, beginning to pace the room. In working himself up, any emotions she had from meeting the detectives melted away. He looked unused to whatever he was doing, she half expected him to escape out the front door, just hideout on the porch until she went to sleep.

Finally, he stopped, then softly gritted the words out. “Do you resent her?”

“No, I understand why she did it.” She wondered if this was really about her mother or him, she didn’t voice that thought out though. “Now, I think the food’s gotten cold enough. Take a seat, eat.” She held his fork out to him.

His brow furrowed, but he did as she asked. Taking the fork and not asking any more questions that he couldn’t understand the answers too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we go again! I hope the editing was alright. My computer was acting jumpy, so during my last look through and adding bits, I really hope I didn't miss anything. Anyway! Thank you all for still reading and hopefully enjoying this fic. I appreciate all of your comments, and I can't wait to get started on the next bit.


	9. Bonedry

Marta fiddled with the blanket on her lap, it was finally beginning to feel like Spring, albeit a cold one. Light snow covered the ground but was steadily melting, filling the garden with sounds of water dripping from the roof and trees. She'd made herself comfortable on the patio reading one of Harlan's books curled up in the chair. Suddenly her sun was blocked and Marta looked up to see Ransom lean over her and put a GO board on the table. He still hadn't shaved, and maybe that was for her benefit? To view him as someone else, she might ask him later. He was wearing a long sleeve light blue shirt so tight that it left nothing to the imagination. Marta tried to keep her eyes on his face.

"What's this?"

"Remember when we played GO for questions?"

"Yes." She wouldn't have expected him to bring up their prison game. But then again, he always surprised her. 

"Want to do it again?"

Marta smiled, "Won't that take a long time?"

"I have time." He joked. "Besides, these are for the tough questions."

"Like what?"

"We'll just have to see, won't we?"

She put down her book then pulled the blanket tighter over her shoulders. "I'm interested."

"The rules are simple. We alternate colors and play on a grid of five. If you win you get a question. And the questions got to mean something."

"Can I be black first?" 

He took his seat and tossed her the bag, "just because you asked."

Marta was eager to win, Ransom was too. Considering that he only won once in five games, she wondered if she should take it easy on him. But he wanted something, why would he play for questions if he didn't. She wanted to test the waters first, and since she won so much, she'd probably set the bar. The first game finished like she expected.

He groaned. "You get the first question." 

"Like it was going to go any other way." She taunted.

"Yeah, yeah, ask your question."

"What was the scariest thing that ever happened to you?"

"Seriously?" 

"Hey, you don't get to make fun of the questions, just answer them." This was going to be funner than she thought, and he hadn't even answered the question yet.

"When you were driving your car and turned into the alley, my heart was in my throat. In fact, that entire drive was the scariest of my life."

"Not fair! I could have guessed that."

He grinned, "Then ask another question next time."

They reset the board, and she wasn't shocked when she won again. Biting her lip she wanted to ask something good but knew she would have a lot of chances with how this was going. "What's your favorite color?"

"Really, are you taking this seriously at all? "He leaned back, looked at his shirt and the sky, "I think I like caramel."

"You sure about that?"

"It's a rich color. Besides that," He shrugged, like why bother explaining.

"It looks warm?" 

"What's your favorite?" He asked ignoring her. She smiled and pointed at the board. He huffed, "so it's like that?" 

Playing with only five by five made each game short, and fast. She grabbed another win, not even hesitating, "Do you like the color caramel because it looks warm."

He rolled his eyes, "Really? You're going to waste it on that?"

"It's not a waste. Now do you?"

"Problem is you're getting cocky. And yes, I do."

Starting another game, She saw he was changing his style, just a bit. He finally pulled out a win.

Marta started clearing the board. "I like reds."

His eyebrows rose, "Thanks for the free answer."

"You asked what my favorite color was?"

"Yes, two rounds ago, before I earned it. I have a different question in mind." She just shook her head and waited for him to continue. "Which one of us annoyed you the most."

"What! No, I can't answer that."

"Oh, come on, which one of us drove you nuts."

Marta shook her head, "no one!"

"Think. Come on, think of anything."

"Okay." She paused, thinking.

"That bad, huh?"

"Oh, quit it, I'm just trying to think." She didn't really pay attention to anyone other than Harlan when she was at home. It was only around events she saw the others, that and… She nodded. "Taking pictures for Joni's Instagram."

"What?"

"Joni would come over sometimes just for the 'cultural' aesthetic. She'd ask either Fran or me to volunteer, It was always me. And I would have to take shots of her for at least an hour for one picture. But that's it, I swear." He drummed his fingers on the table. "You seem disappointed it wasn't something else."

"I thought for sure it would be me."

"I mean if you want me to say what you do that annoys me I would be more than happy–"

"No, I get the message."

They played again, and again. His favorite ice cream, pralines and cream. Best present he'd ever received, he took a while to answer before he'd said it was a watch from Harlan. The worst date she had ever been on, Ben, they went out to dinner, and she puked on him when she lied about not having a curfew. That one had him in tears. He won again after that, the tone shifting.

"Why didn't you tell them about my book?"

"It's not mine to tell." She fidgeted. 

"It could help with everything."

"Maybe. Would you like it back?"

He shook his head. "I don't know. It's been years."

She got up and tugged on his arm for him to follow her. He did, through the house and into the study. She opened the top of the desk and forgot that this is where she kept all his letters. His eyes took in all the papers, and he grabbed one. 

"Why'd you put them here?"

"Honestly, I didn't want my mom to find them and freak out. It was a safe space." She moved them to the side and grabbed the thick stack of papers. "I don't want to see these anywhere near the fireplace." 

"Scouts honor."

She rolled her eyes and moved to walk away when he grabbed her hand. She paused and looked at him, his eyes trailed over her face then on her lips. Suddenly her throat was dry. "Ransom?"

"Yes."

"What are you doing?"

Instead of answering, he brushed his lips against hers. Lingering a second before drawing back, she blinked and licked her lips. Then he was kissing her again. Manuscript on the desk, his hands cradling the back of her head to draw her towards him. She bought her own hands and wrapped them around his back.

She opened her mouth to take a breath and felt his tongue gently nudge against her lips. She let out a light gasp when he tilted her so they could kiss deeper. Clenching against the fabric of his shirt, she wondered if this was actually happening. His hands wandered, one going down her back and settling on her hip. The other on her neck.

She stopped thinking, dragging him closer. He was solid and hot. His hands trailed down her again, making her tingle. She felt full of air, even though she was breathless. It was like the space between them was too far, so she pulled him forward, his frame bowed over her. He groaned a bit before dragging himself away. Both of them panting, his eyes wild. She was sure hers looked the same. 

"Ransom." She shuddered, "Why did you do that?"

"Because I wanted too."

"I don't understand that. Why?" Her voice a whisper. "is this about the money?"

His eyes hardened. "God, no– it's not about the money."

"Then what do you mean?"

"I meant," He ran his hand through his hair, he'd walked away, leaving a large gap between them. "Jesus Marta, if I made you uncomfortable–"

"You didn't. I just need to know what you mean when you say you wanted to." Was he bored? Trying to think of a way to pass the time. She noticed that he seemed more aware, but he was still Ransom. 

The tick in his jaw was back, and she wanted to smooth it out. Stupid thought, but it was there. "You're different than I thought, alright."

"That doesn't explain anything."

"I like you. Isn't it obvious?" He gave a disbelieving huff, "shocking, I know. But I just do. You're too nice, which drives me nuts because it feels like someone's bound to take advantage of you. I might even be that person– but you're funny and smart, and you're trying really hard to make sure the money doesn't change you."

She blinked and stuttered. "Ransom I–"

"You don't have to say anything." He gathered the manuscript up. "I'm going to put this in my room. Then we don't have to talk about that kiss ever again." 

He left Marta staring after him, wondering where she should go from there.

###### 

She didn't see him for the rest of that night. The next morning they ate in silence before he left and disappeared for the better portion of the day. She knew where he was, the only place he could be was his bedroom. The creaking of the stairs gave him away when he left. Following him, she hesitated outside his bedroom door. What would happen if she just knocked? It was a line in the sand, and if she crossed it, she felt her face flush. She must be broken. She never thought of Ransom that way before, would never entertain that thought because aside from it being unprofessional, it was Ransom. 

_The first time she'd met him, he'd handed her an empty glass. Enunciating every word slowly. "Bring. This. To. The. Kitchen."_

_It stung for a moment. Then she'd smiled and tried to correct him. "It's okay, I speak English."_

_"Well, you fooled me." He took his glass back. "Word of advice, kill the accent."_

She shook her head. That was five years ago. It was still embarrassing when she thought about it. Could she like someone like that? No. She would never. But he wasn't that, hadn't been that for a long time. Besides, all she needed to do was talk. She couldn't handle it if they took a step back after everything. 

She just needed to knock. Then the doorbell rang. She sighed and turned to go to the front door. Outside the glass, she could see the outline of Joni and Meg. They waved as they saw her and Marta mentally cursed. Ransom wasn't behind her, so she could make this quick. She opened the door, trying to block the view inside just in case. 

"Hey, Marta! Are you feeling better?"

"I am, thank you for asking. How can I help you?"

"Oh." Joni lifted up one of the reusable totes full of food. "We come bearing gifts, we figured you wouldn't be up to cooking after your ordeal."

"Really, that's too kind." Marta said, "but now isn't really a good time."

"Nonsense. I posted this recipe on a blog, it's great for detoxing. You'll love it– Oh my god." Joni dropped the bag, which hit the floor with a _thunk._ Marta turned to see what she was staring at, Ransom leaning against the stairs with a coffee mug. Marta looked between Meg and Joni, who, in turn looked between her and Ransom. It seemed she was wrong about where he'd been. Between the silence, Ransom spoke up.

"Hello, Joni," he brought his mug up to drink, "SJW."

"What is this?" Meg finally asked.

"I can explain," Marta said, but Ransom waved her off.

"It's a long story. The short version is Marta helped me get out of jail." He nodded at the bag. "I can take that into the kitchen if you want." 

Marta didn't know what shocked them more, Ransom being here, that she'd helped him, or that he offered to take in the bag. 

"Is that right?" Joni seemed to collect herself quickly, her voice increasing in pitch. "Wow, Marta! It's totally fine. I got this." she grabbed the bag and left for the kitchen.

Meg finally stepped in, and Marta was able to close the door. Meg rounded on her, not caring that Ransom was only ten feet away. "Why did you help him?"

"Because I could." Marta reasoned, "Because we're family, and I was already helping everyone else, I wanted to help him too." 

Ransom shrugged, "I know, shocking, right? The nurse with a bleeding heart."

Marta sighed and looked at Meg, then gestured towards the kitchen, "So how long before everyone else gets here?"

"Knowing Mom, she's already sent a group text and is working on individual ones now."

Ransom took another sip, "I suppose this is going to be a party then."

An hour later, Walt, Donna, and Jacob had arrived, which would have been bad enough with how Ransom and Walt were glaring daggers at each other. Only not even five minutes later, Linda waltzed in, freezing Ransom with her stare. 

"Son."

"Mother."

Linda's eyes narrowed on him, then Marta, "I'm assuming there's a story here."

"Isn't there always?" Ransom said.

Marta looked at everyone, Donna had left, leaving everyone else awkwardly standing in the foyer. Ransom appeared bored, but since living with him, Marta could pick up subtle things, the way he pursed his lips currently said he wished Joni never showed up. Not wanting an all-out war, Marta stepped in.

"Why don't we all go into the living room?"

"Yes, just like old times." Joni agreed, already leading the way. 

Ransom and his mother were still locked in a standstill of old western proportions. Marta interrupted them by placing a hand on his arm, which every eye in the room followed. She ignored it, "Living room?"

He nodded, his mouth still in a hard line. She worried about the possible screaming match that could take place. With her and Ransom going to the living room, it left no choice for Linda, Joni, Meg, Walt, and Jacob to follow. 

With everyone in the room, it was almost too much like old times. Almost everyone. Another knock on the door had every eye on Joni.

"What?" she said, "It was a group text."

With budding horror, Marta was sure Richard was on the other side of that door. Still, she couldn't leave him out when it was so painfully obvious that everyone was here. 

"I'll get it." She said.

Richard smiled as she opened the door. "Marta! I heard from Joni, is it true?" He didn't wait for her response as he breezed in towards the living room. Marta joined to see him fake punch Ransom's shoulder. "Jesus, son, you couldn't make a razor out of a spoon or something?"

"No, dad," he shrugged away. "I was too busy using it to dig a tunnel out."

Linda cut in, "Nevermind that– which one of you is going to explain what is going on."

"Marta had me transferred here under house arrest."

"And you're fine living here with Marta?" Richard said. "No offense, Marta."

Ransom narrowed his eyes, "Yes, I'm fine living here with Marta."

Richard looked between the two of them. "It just doesn't seem like your style, it doesn't even have a pool."

"That's what you're worried about." _not that I tried to kill her_ was left unsaid, Ransom lifted a brow, "Seems like I'm doing just fine."

Walt interrupted, "Oh, here we go again."

"And what does that mean, Walt?"

"It means you're still a worthless, lazy brat. It means you're not done bleeding this family dry."

"So now Marta's back to being a part of the family again?" Meg interrupted.

"The only one bleeding her dry is you and your mom," Jacob said.

"Like your any different. Hypocrite."

Jacob demanded, "What is that supposed to mean?" 

"It means your family's got an allowance too." Meg smirked, "welcome to the club."

Donna looked startled and eyed her husband, "Walt?"

Walter shot Meg a warning look. "She doesn't know what she's talking about."

Joni scoffed, "Like you haven't been using Marta's money for your new publishing house."

"I don't see how that's any of your business Joni."

Marta stared at everyone, shaking her head, she couldn't understand it. Why were they still fighting? Why couldn't they just talk? She'd given them more than enough, she gasped. It would never be enough. She'd made the same mistake as Harlan.

They weren't here for Ransom. They were here for her, to get closer, to be seen in need. Ransom had seen the look of realization cross her face, and though he didn't know– couldn't know what she'd thought. He knew what she would do next.

"Excuse me." No one paid any attention. Marta pressed a hand to her forehead, then she raised her voice. “ _Everyone Stop._ ”

Silence followed, and Marta took a deep breath. "I can't believe it, but I've made a mistake. I didn't help any of you."

"What do you mean?" Walt asked.

"I mean– Did any of you actually listen to what was said in Harlan's will?"

"He was off his rocker when he wrote that."

Marta calmly stated, "No, he wasn't. He was trying to fix things." Martas mind worked as she spoke. "I knew he was going to cut the line the night of his birthday. He felt that by giving everything to you all that he was keeping you beneath him. He thought he should have encouraged Walt to write his own stories, been more of a father to Joni, been kinder to Linda."

She took a deep breath. "I tried in my own way, really, I did. But I can't be complacent. The allowances are stopping tonight."

Richard spoke first, "That isn't funny." 

"It's not supposed to be."

"But what about my schooling?" Meg asked.

"This is the final semester, the tuition has already been covered."

Walt tried to intervene. "Now, let's not get ahead of ourselves."

"What is it that you suggest we do?" Linda asked it was calm, probably because she wasn't dependent on Marta or her father's fortune.

"Help each other."

It was easy for everyone to leave after that. In fact, they seemed to rush out themselves. Shooting her dirty looks and muttering to each other. Joni and Meg were the last to leave. Meg had given her a hug, saying that maybe she'd be more cautious without Marta's help. Joni seemed the most reluctant to go. When she shut the door, she could have collapsed. Ransom stood behind her with his arms crossed. 

"Is it hypocritical of me to still be here, if I think what you did was for the best?"

"No? Maybe?" She walked away from the door, the sun was setting casting everything in an orange glow. "I need some tea– something to relax. How are you doing?"

"Well, after they tore into each other and forgot about me, it was easy." He paused, then shook his head, "so what made you do it?"

"I don't know, but they never asked." She said. "They never asked what Harlan meant, you're the only one that did and seemed to listen."

"Kinda didn't have a choice."

"You did." Marta paused another thought occurring to her, but she asked to be sure. "Did you tell them the truth, so they knew I wasn't alone."

"I did." 

"That was smart."

"You're not mad?"

"No, I'm furious." She looked away from him. Just because someone was still trying to kill her for all they know. She didn't want whoever it was to add Ransom to that list.

"I'm a part of this as much as you."

"Who are you, and what have you done with Ransom Drysdale?" She said, and he chuckled. 

"You're asking that now? Let's go get you that tea because, after that, I need a drink." He turned to walk away.

"Hey, Ransom?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you." Marta quickly gave him a lingering peck on the lips. Then pulled away, his face followed like he wanted more. And she would have let him, later she decided. Instead, she hurried into the kitchen, she could have sworn she heard him whisper _" shit,"_ as she left and let herself feel satisfied that maybe the kisses wouldn't be a one time thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this one was surprisingly hard to write, I made a lot of changes and I had to keep going to a little note with my outline to see if it works with the plan. I'm very worried I didn't pay attention to something and have the weird feeling I forgot something (A feeling that typically stops me from posting) But if I don't then I never will LOL. I also feel like I'm sprinkling commas like fairy dust, but that's neither here nor there.
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading and thanks for the comments! I adore you all!


	10. The Wrong Tree

Marta stretched as she made her way down the hall, checking rooms as she went. She tugged on the strap of her camisole, it was more skin than she usually showed in the morning. She hadn't seen Ransom since last night, she'd heard him come down the stairs earlier, then tugged on her clothes and rushed down. She spent the rest of the night thinking about what she wanted. She bit her lip, when did she just want to be close to him? Probably longer than she wanted to admit. 

The library door was open, and she rapped on the frame. Ransom didn't move at the sound, he was sitting on a leather sofa, his legs crossed reading a book. He looked relaxed, wearing a shirt that looked soft, and navy joggers. She wasn't fooled, this outfit probably cost more than she made when she worked for Harlan. It's that it was old, and he hadn't mentioned getting new ones that made her wonder. Marta came in, debating on how she should start.

"Morning, am I disturbing you?"

"No, I'm just reading." He sighed and dragged his hand around his beard.

"What's wrong?" Marta sat on another chair.

"You moved them."

" I did." Marta knew he was talking about the empty weapon spiral, which looked less impressive and out of place in the library. "Does that bother you?"

"No," He finally met her eyes. 

Then why bring it up? "I thought we said we'd be honest."

He slammed his book shut, "We did, but this is–"

She interrupted, "What, it's a reminder?" She gestured around them. "Everything's a reminder. First it was Harlan, now it's this. Let it go."

He stood up suddenly and began to pace. The hard set of his throat worked against whatever he wanted to say. He stopped in front of her. "You're a reminder too, you're the biggest one."

Marta stood up, nearly brushing him with how close he was. "Do you know it's the same for me? So what do you want."

"I want you to be mad at me!" He shouted.

"I am!" she was seething, she pointed at the empty ring, "If you had grabbed a different knife I wouldn't be here. You wouldn't be here! I think about it all the time." She pushed a bit at his chest, then choked out. "I'm mad at everything, and it's so hard for me to be this angry all the time."

Ransom replied, clearing a sudden rasp in his throat. "I hate myself. The longer I think about everything I– I don't know if I feel different. I want to be, but I just don't know."

"I think you're different." Marta said, letting her hand rest on his chest. "You're the same in so many ways, but you're different." 

"It feels like you're punishing me." He put his hand on top of hers. "Being like this, this nice."

"I'm not."

"That makes it worse."

"Shut up, Ransom." She tugged him down and met his lips fiercely . So different from the first one. This wasn't tender. It was biting. Tongues and teeth. She took the lead. His beard scratched her face, but she didn't mind in the least. She blindly pushed him backward, accidentally knocking over a table with a lamp and books, till his knees bumped into a chair he'd been sitting in. 

"Sit." She pushed him down, letting him gaze up at her before she straddled him. One leg and then the next. Kissing him again and rocking her hips against his.

Groaning, he stilled her hands, "If we keep doing this, I don't know if I'll be able to stop."

"You will, I've got faith in you." She pulled him back to her mouth, saying between kisses, "just let me enjoy this."

"Whatever you want." He agreed.

The dogs barking outside had her pulling back. They were breathing heavily, and Ransom had his head resting in the crook of her neck.

"I should check on them."

"They're fine."

Marta laughed, "We should check on them."

"Later."

"Ransom."

He groaned. "Fine." 

Marta got up awkwardly, her legs felt like jello. She wondered if she was the only one affected and watched Ransom from the corner of her eyes. She had never seen him so disheveled and found she liked the look. He adjusted himself, caught her looking, and quirked his brow.

"Thinking of coming back?" He asked.

She just laughed, "Come on." She heard him follow her out of the library. 

She tugged on her shoes while preparing for the cold. Something fuzzy touched her, and she jumped, only to see Ransom handing her one of her thicker cardigans.

"You get cold too easily."

She thanked him as he went back and tugged on his own jacket. The dogs barked again from outside. "We should just call them in, I'll have to have a talk with Thomas about letting them out with all the snow so early in the morning."

"You baby them."

"I love them." She replied, "I worry about them."

"Yeah, you do that." Ransom let her take the lead. Fresh snow fell overnight, and it was still soft and powdery as they walked down the stairs. The dogs were easy to spot, the only two brown masses over by the gate.

"Ricky! Martin!" Marta yelled. Both dogs stayed plastered to the gate though. Unease filled her mind. She moved closer towards the dogs. Hearing them whine as she got closer, till she was also at the gate. "Hey, buddies." She patted Martin, "you okay?"

Ransom stood tall behind her, looking out past the gate. Ricky had his paws on the fence, looking like he was ready to go over the gate if he had too. Ransom came over and tentatively rubbed around her back. "I think we should go inside."

Marta nodded, "Come on, boys." She wanted to rush back. But kept her pace even having to pat her thigh to keep the dogs with her. Ransom hesitated, looking out the gate, then shook his head then rushed to join her.

"I don't know what had them going over there."

"You and me both." She said, keeping her eyes in front of her. Maybe it was paranoia but she made sure the only tracks leading up to the house were her and Ransoms. "I'll call Mr. Proofroc to check surveillance footage. Hopefully, it was a raccoon."

"Maybe."

When they got inside, Ransom went to go get a towel for the dogs while Marta phoned Mr. Proofroc. It rang twice before he answered.

"Guardhouse." 

"Hello Mr. Proofroc, I just brought in the dogs because they were acting funny over at the back gate. We still have the cameras over there, right?"

"We should. Want me to check the footage?"

"If you could, if it's anything serious, would you get back to me?"

"Will do." 

She thanked him and hung up the phone. Turning to see Ransom getting ready to towel the dogs. She went over to help him. "He says he'll check."

"Good, now how do I do this?" He placed a towel over Ricky like a saddle and patted it, "I have a history with these guys and biting."

"Confidence helps." Marta took the towel and started towel drying them quickly.

Ransom grimaced and gave it a shot. Surprised when it worked. Even more so when he was licked. He jolted away, knocking into a chair, and on his butt. Ricky lunged at his face, licking him again and again. Ransom panicked, " _Marta, help!_ " 

Marta couldn't help it, she laughed and watched as he was getting mauled by kisses. Martin, not wanting to be left out of the fun, joined in and Ransom struggled to get up. It would have been nice to let it continue, but Marta tugged on their collars. "He needs to breathe, guys. Sit."

Both dogs sat, switching their gazes between the two of them. Ransom wiped his face, making a gah sound, "It's all in my beard."

"I don't see anything," Marta teased, "just a bunch of hair."

Ransom got up, eyeing the dogs warily, "This doesn't mean I like them, you know."

"Whatever you say."

His expression was soft as he sighed, "I need a shower now, you good down here?"

"I think we'll be fine." The dogs were already making themselves comfortable on the sofa. Frankly, She didn't want to focus on whatever feeling she had out there. 

"Hey." Ransom stepped closer, he hesitated before resting a hand on her shoulder. "It was probably nothing."

"Do you actually believe that?"

"I want to." His arms crossed his chest, "Just if you go outside for a run or something. Take the dogs."

"Okay." She smiled weakly, "You don't think I should just stay inside."

"I think if this really was something, we should be smart and stay inside. But I also think that fear is whoever doing this wants." Ransom ran his hand on the back of his neck. "I would rather you stay inside. I can't follow you out there."

"Thanks, Ransom." 

He sighed and waved a hand. "Like I said, I'm taking a shower. Just something to think about."

###### 

Her feet pounded on the ground outside, sticking to the path she'd paved from months of running. It might be ridiculous, but she found some satisfaction whenever ice crunched beneath her feet. The dogs darted around the trees, happy as clams in comparison to yesterday. Nearing the guardhouse, Marta slowed to a stop, rapping on the door.

No answer, wishing she could at least pen a note saying she stopped by. Turning round to head back up the trail, she started when Ricky and Martin ran ahead in the opposite direction, barking. Alarmed, Marta followed. 

They'd stopped by a cluster of trees, and Marta saw the outline of a leg in old tweed trousers. Mr. Proofroc. Marta clasped her hand over her mouth and held back a scream. Her throat burned, and she tugged on the sleeve of her hoodie to breathe into it. She quickly called the dogs back, not wanting them anywhere near the body. She stumbled her way back to the guardhouse. She hesitated over the handle then used her shirt to open the door, unlocked.

Little boxes of tapes littered the floor. She walked over them, trying not to disturb anything as she phoned the police. The officers showed up several minutes later, she heard the sirens before she saw them. Trooper Wagner, coming over to her as she sat outside the house. Lieutenant Elliot was directing other officers.

"Marta, how are you doing?" 

"I've been better."

"I needed to ask, I'm sorry you had to see that." He squatted next to her. "Would you mind taking us to the body?"

"I don't," she swallowed and scrambled to the side to puke.

"You don't have to force yourself."

She sniffed and reworded, "No, I knew him. I can at least do this."

She stood then walked them down the short distance to his, she shuddered, resting place. Not wanting to get too close, she stopped right as she saw the outline. Police around her, already beginning to carefully go through the scene. "There he is."

The Lieutenant joined them asking his own questions. "Did you get close to the body?"

"No, the dogs did though, they sniffed around his pants, I didn't really see anything else." 

"How soon after finding the body did you call?"

"Immediately."

"And as for prior events," He let her take over.

"The Thrombeys were here the day before yesterday. They found out Ransom was staying here. They left around the sunset. Yesterday we heard the dogs barking, brought them in and I called Mr. Proofroc to check the footage. Ransom and I made tea, then read in the study before we had dinner, then went to bed."

"Do you mind if I go with you to question Ransom on the events." He gestured towards a car. 

"I don't mind, but can we walk? The dogs." She explained. Truthfully she also wanted a moment to settle her thoughts. She could see him scanning the environment as they walked up the road. They paused as rushing footsteps behind them and saw the Trooper joining them. Puffs of air escaping as he nodded at whatever was being unsaid between him and the Lieutenant. 

"Private conversation?" She asked.

The Lieutenant only sighed, "We'll tell you later."

Marta grunted, and the dogs ran ahead, meeting Ransom standing maybe twenty feet from the gate. Ransom was there holding two cups of coffee as he danced around the dogs. When he looked up at her, the smile he'd had fell when it landed on the Lieutenant.

"Jesus, is everything okay?" He met her, hesitating at the gate, "what happened?"

Marta didn't think he'd been close with the man but hoped he'd be okay. Still, her throat cracked, "Mr. Proofroc is dead."

"Are you okay?" He sucked in a breath looking at the Lieutenant, "

"It's too soon to say yet, the boys are down there now. Tests will need to be done to determine the cause of death." He shifted, "I'll need to ask you some questions. I already asked Marta about what happened, now I need to hear it from you."

Ransom handed her one of the coffees, saying to the Lieutenant, "Does my ankle bracelet make me look better or worse in this scenario?"

"It doesn't matter." He rubbed the back of his neck and asked if the Trooper could go back to the crime scene. "Also, Marta, do you mind leaving us alone?"

Marta looked at Ransom and nodded, "Thanks for the coffee."

She walked up the stairs, looking once over her shoulder at the two, then into the house. She moved robotically.

Was this her fault? 

Should she have hired another guard? 

She never expected someone to want her dead, or kill anyone else, but that was before. Did she have a right to grieve, she didn't know. 

Ransom came in later to find her with her head laid down on the desk. 

"Are you okay?"

"No. I don't think I am." She blinked through her tears, "I think I've seen enough bodies."

He came over and rubbed circles between her shoulder blades. "Is there anything I could do?"

She patted his hand, "Just this– this is fine."

Ransom said he told the Lieutenant the same thing Marta had. He tried to keep her distracted by reading one of Harlan's least suspenseful books out loud, and it helped somewhat. Lieutenant Elliot and Trooper Wagner knocked on the door later. Ransom was the one to let them in.

"Marta, is there the slightest possibility that there was any surveillance that far out there?"

"I don't think so, we'd been having trouble with the cameras, so some were prioritized over others." She stood, "but you can take any of the tapes with you."

"Thank you, we'll have someone go through them and take any relevant ones in as evidence." The Lieutenant paused, "We think it's in your best interest to go to a safe house. It would give us more time to find out who's done this."

"Even if I went to a safehouse, Ransom is under house arrest."

"It's fine, Marta."

"No, it's not. I'm not leaving you here to be alone too."

"The alternative is we add some officers for surveillance," Trooper Wagner said. "No matter where you are, this is a certainty."

"Then I'm sorry for the trouble, but that will do."

###### 

"I'm worried about the dogs," she said later while they were in the library. She was sitting next to where the ring of knives had been staring at a manuscript. She had to steady her hand, maybe the reason they acted so weird that day was because they saw something. "If this one of them went so far as to kill Mr. Proofroc, then I think they wouldn't care about the dogs."

Ransom nodded, "We can bring them inside, or I could put them away at night."

"You don't mind bringing them inside?"

"Marta, it's your house, and the dogs will be safe here. I promise."

###### 

Police stakeout outside the house was constant. The Trooper had been kind enough to inform them that this case was their priority, and they had leads but didn't share what they suspected. It drove Ransom nuts.

"It could be any one of them," Ransom slammed a GO stone into the board. "I can't really think of anyone in my family getting blood on their hands. Hell, even Jacob could have ordered a hitman off of craigslist."

Marta just placed the stones silently. She hadn't said it out loud, but she felt responsible for Mr. Proofroc's death. Ransom could tell. It's why he shoved the board between them and said they were playing for questions. She knew he felt restless, stuck in this house. But he was trying.

"It's not your fault, you know."

She shook her head, "Don't."

"He was stubborn, it's why he stayed for as long as he did." Ransom continued, "He wouldn't have left even if you told him too."

"You don't know that."

"You don't either. Stop beating yourself up, it happened."

"How can you say that?" Marta slammed down a stone. "You sound–"

"Like a cold bastard?"

Marta pursed her lips, "No. I wasn't going to say that."

"Well, what is it then?"

"I know what you're doing." Marta sighed, "I don't need to pick a fight to feel better. This is already helping."

Ransom was silent before saying, "I guess I'm just a bit more fucked up than I thought."

"I want peace, remember?" And she wanted that for him too. They could have arranged something else, hell, they should have. Was he a ward of the state? Shouldn't they remove prisoners, even those under house arrest somewhere safe if they were being threatened? "And you are the right amount of "fucked up.""

###### 

Days after that, they were able to see the toxicology report. Because they weren't family, the only details they received was that it was the same poison that killed Mr. Proofroc that was used on Marta. She took it the same way she had in the hospital, but Ransom seemed numb. When the police left, Ransom got up with them. 

"I just need to check something real quick." He seemed uncomfortable.

Marta nodded and let him leave. She wondered if he was going into his room. She'd passed by earlier and heard him mutter and type on the old smith corona that he'd moved in from the study. A couple of hours passed. She spent the time making arrangements for Mr. Proofroc's funeral and gave Thomas bereavement leave. She made a cup of coffee for Ransom and made her way up to his room. 

She didn't knock, just opened the door, "Did you find what you were looking for?"

"No, I just don't understand how someone could take this." He pounded on the paper, "and warped it for this. I'm missing something." 

"You're not the only one," Marta came in and handed him the cup. "This wasn't what we expected. I thought the next thing we'd get would just be another letter."

"Well, at least we know Thrombeys are consistent. When they don't get what they want. Murder. It's always an answer."

Marta raised a brow. "Funny." 

Ransom sighed, "I'm saying what you already know."

"It's fine, Ransom. Take a break. Come downstairs, you should eat." She said.

"Hey, Marta, I'm not just saying this, don't forgive anymore of us."

"Maybe," she said, then, "Now, seriously, we need to eat."

Ransom just shook his head as she walked away. He wished he could read her mind, it would at least give him some clarity. He'd begun to understand her in the month that they've lived together. She had a completely different upbringing and way of seeing the world, something he'd become more aware of since her visits to the prison.

He never thought he would be here. But watching her walk away was hard because he wanted to shake her. She had too many weaknesses. If he was being honest, he'd say it scared him. Maybe one day, he would say it. Ransom rubbed the back of his neck and cursed. 

He left his desk and closed his bedroom door behind him, on the way down the steps he turned and looked at the front door, seeing the outlines of both the Trooper and Lieutenant walking up the steps. Just when he thought tonight couldn't get any worse.

He opened the door just as the Trooper pushed the doorbell. "You know It's polite to call before stopping by, right?"

Both men glared at him before the Lieutenant said, "Is Marta in? We have some news."

"What's going on?" Marta came up from behind him, and Ransom opened the door wider. "Come in, please."

Ransom closed the door behind them, "So officers, seeing as you're here, can I assume you've done your job, or are you here to deliver more bad news?"

"Good news actually," The Lieutenant said, shooting a dirty look Ransom's way. "We made an arrest earlier."

Marta leaned into Ransom for support. "Really, who?" He didn't even think before he had his arm wrapped around her shoulders.

"Walt, while we were questioning them about their whereabouts the last two days, another police officer searching the premises found blue dye in his car that matches the dye from the envelopes as well as gloves with traces of poison on them—"

Trooper Wagner interrupted, "We believe with a toxicology report that it'll match what was given to you that night or at least the poison that killed Mr. Proofroc."

"So it's over?" Marta asked, hardly believing it herself.

"It's over." The Lieutenant said, "you can finally relax. We wanted to stop by and tell you personally."

"No, thank you, guys." Marta stepped out from under Ransom's arm to give them each hugs. "Thank you."

"They just did their jobs." Ransom muttered loud enough for everyone to hear. Marta leaned back and slapped Ransom's arm, looking pointedly at the two men. "Thank you for arresting Walt, it's about time."

Marta just rolled her eyes, but the tension she'd been carrying since reading the first letter was gone. "Really, I can't believe it's finally over. If there's anything, I can do to repay you?"

"That's not necessary," The Lieutenant replied. "As Mr. Drysdale was saying, we were just doing our jobs."

"Anyway, we don't want to keep you." Trooper Wagner added. "We'll be back later, we just wanted to let you know that you're no longer under surveillance. And that you can finally rest easy."

They both said their goodbyes and left. Ransom released his own breath, turning to catch Marta as she placed her arms around him in a hug.

"Is it bad to be happy right now?"

"I would say now is a perfect time to be happy." Ransom ran his hand over her back. "Don't think you needed me that much to begin with."

"What do you mean?"

"The police solved it, but really Walt? Always thought he was too much of a pussy to do it." He chuckled. 

"A joke? Really?" Marta pulled back.

"Can you blame me, I'm in a good mood. Weird."

"Weirder things have happened."

"Guess we can let the dogs out."

Marta rolled her eyes, "They've grown on you, and you know it."

Ransom's voice softened. "I guess they did." 

She wondered if that was the only thing he thought about and instead patted his chest. Still not used to being so close to him even after all the kisses, "Kitchen, let's go."

They stood next to each other by the counter, she let him chop up the vegetables. Weird to think about how last time they were in here, the air was tense with how they found Mr. Proofroc. Instead of Ransom dragging a hand down his face, or taking a deep breath to calm himself. He was nodding along to a tune in his head. 

She fidgeted for a second, watching him work. They won, it was amazing. She wanted to celebrate but didn't want the night to end. Getting an idea, she went back into the study and grabbed the GO board. She wondered how this would play out, feeling fuzzy at the thought. Ignoring dinner, she sat the board down. 

"Play for some questions?"

Ransom looked over his shoulder, appearing normal, "Sure, but we should eat first."

"I was kind of just handing you things, whatcha make?"

"I hope you don't mind. I wanted something easy. Salad, okay?"

"It sounds great."

"Good," He put a plate together for her and sat it on the table using what was left for himself.

Marta watched him throughout the dinner. He kept the conversation light, asking more about her childhood, about what she wanted to be when she grew up. She joked that he was just trying to get free answers and tapped the board while he smiled. When they finished eating, she insisted she clear the plates while he set up the board.

"So what was with the staring contest?" He asked.

"Was I that obvious?" Marta said. "I had a lot to think about."

"You're as subtle as a gun when you want to be."

She took a seat, hugging her knee. "Am I really that bad? What was I thinking about?"

"Me." He tapped a stone, "I don't blame you."

"You're so full of yourself." She laughed.

"That's not a no." He asked. "Okay, same rules as last time?" 

"Works for me." 

She let him be black, and move after move his face grew more confused. He won. She blinked like she didn't know what happened then shrugged. 

"There's a first time for everything." Marta smiled.

Ransom seemed to shake his head, "Did you lose on purpose?"

She hesitated, "Yes."

"Why?"

"You only get one question. Win and ask the next one."

He looked confused but played along, just like before the game came to a close with Ransom winning. "I don't know if I should be offended or not."

"I'm putting the ball in your court, I thought you might like that."

They watched each other, his brows were pinched together as he tried to take her in. "What do you want, Marta?"

"You."

He froze. "What?"

"I want you."

He clasped his hands together in front of the GO board, "Marta, be serious."

"I am. I mean, if my face really is an open book, surely you can read that."

"What do you think is going to happen if we do this? If this goes bad–"

"I want this. Do you?" Marta said, "We should go to my room."

"God, yes."

His chair scraped against the floor while she stood, he came over quickly and surprised her by taking her mouth in his. Somehow in between touches, they went up the stairs, pausing only for her to pepper kisses across his jaw and neck.

"I think we almost died twice to get up here." He was flushed, and he let her body drag against his outside her door. She pressed her hand against his face to feel the heat. His eyes were locked on hers as she leaned in for a kiss. 

He let her kiss him until he wrapped his hands around her in an embrace and deepened the kiss. She laughed against his mouth. "Honestly, I can't believe we're doing this.

"Why?"

"Until last year, you never even looked at me."

"I was stupid last year."

"And now?"

"I'm much smarter." He kissed her again and lifted her up, so her legs were on either side of him, opening the door then dragging them in. He let her slip to the floor and hesitated at her shirt. She helped him take it off, leaving on one of her plain tan bras. She tangled him up in another kiss, turning him around so he could sit on the bed.

He let out a light puff of air when he hit the mattress, then put his hands on her hips to bring her closer. It was weird to feel wanted, to be gazed at, it had been a while since she'd been with someone. She undid the hook on her bra and let it fall to the floor. His eyes trailed down to her breasts then up again. 

Marta straddled his lap, making her maybe a couple of inches taller as she kissed him again. His hands drifted around her abdomen, up her ribs, and came to rest beside the swell of her breasts. His fingers twitched like he was trying to maintain control. She pulled back to look at him.

"You're not going to lose me, I'm here because I want to be."

He gulped, "I want this. I've wanted this for a while. I just can't believe it's happening." 

"Why?"

"Because girls like you don't settle for guys like me."

"And what types of girls are those?"

"Girls that deserve more." He rested his head between her breasts, his hands sliding around and stopping on her ass. 

"Then, don't I deserve to be with someone I love?"

He whispered something in response against her that she couldn't hear, and she stroked through his hair down his back. He gripped her ass and jolted her more securely on top of him, it ground their bodies together. She moaned, still clutching his shoulders. He kisses trailed down her neck, brushing the rise of her breasts, his beard scratching her sending a pleasant shiver up her spine.

"That tickles."

He pulled back and brushed a hand against his chin, smiling. "Should I shave?"

"Later, let me enjoy it for now."

He grinned and returned his scratchy kisses to her breasts. He rolled her nipple in his mouth. When he looked back up at her, her lips were parted with a shallow breath. She rolled her hips and watched his eyes darken. His hands dropped to her ass, stopping her. 

"If you continue to do that, I'll want more."

"I can give you more," she said.

She led one of his hands to the waistband of her leggings, taking the invitation he slipped his fingers underneath the band and rubbed them over her slit. She moaned as he circled her clit. Directing his head back to kiss her. It was frantic, tongues entwining. He took one finger and entered her, pumping it back and forth, testing how tight she was before adding a second finger. She nipped his lips, and he grunted. 

"Sorry." she gasped

"I liked it." His kisses alternated between nips of his own, passionate but slow. His tongue meeting hers in sensual movements. "You can be rough with me."

He circled his thumb over her clitoris, and she shuddered, the touch wasn't enough to send her to the edge, but it brought her close. She thrust into his hand, feeling like she was getting there. He left her mouth and went to her other breast, locking his mouth on her nipple and gently bit.

She jolted, "not fair that you're doing all the work."

"You've got hands."

Marta reached between them and cupped the outline of his erection, he sucked in a breath. Getting bolder, she undid the zipper of his pants. Trying to tug it down between both of them. He moved to her neck and murmured at her pulse. "Do you need some help?" 

She nodded and was grateful that he took over. He pulled his fingers out from her, and she nearly cried from the way her body ached. To his credit, he tried to hurry. With his hands free, she began tugging to his shirt over his head. "This next."

He paused at the zipper and pulled the shirt off, leaving his torso bare. She was wrong, he hadn't lost muscle when he was in jail, he'd made everything more compact. Marta quickly stood on shaky legs and got rid of her leggings. Ransom shucked off his pants, both finally naked, she straddled his lap again. His hands rolled over her back while her hands caressed his front. 

"I need you back in me, please," she begged. His hand traveled back around to grind his palm over her mound. The pressure made her ache. Her hips grated into his hand. His cock rubbing between her thighs, making her wetter, hotter. It felt amazing having him in her arms, kissing her, touching her. She brought a hand up and caressed his jaw, trying to make it sweeter, deeper. She planted her knees wider beside him, with him supporting her. Just rubbing, she lifted slightly and felt him probe her entrance, his eyes questioning even as she sank down.

She gasped into his mouth, and they both stilled. Then he smoothed his hands around on her hips, She rose and sank to the hilt, her legs already shaking. 

"I got you," He kissed at her neck and slowly thrust forward, he moved inside her again slower, it was agonizing. He began to pick up the pace after a couple more thrusts. Her hands were everywhere. In his hair, wrapped around his neck, hoisting herself up to go just a little faster. She bought his mouth back to hers and drank him in.

He shifted, holding her, turning her back down to the bed when they were settled, he braced an arm beside her head and began to thrust again. He said her name like a chant, kissing at her cheeks, chin, and mouth. She lifted her knees and locked them around him at the ankles, enjoying the feel of him as he sank into her. One of her hands dug her nails into his shoulder blade, the other in the flesh of his ass, urging him on. His other hand made its way down to rub at her clit. She came hard, shuddering his name at his throat.

Ranson kept thrusting over and over until he stilled and pulled out. She felt the wet flutter of his cum against her stomach. He caught himself from sinking on her and rolled over onto his side, and he looked at her, his chest rising and falling. She curled up next to him, a question on her lips that he kissed once then twice before wrapping an arm around her. 

"Can I stay?"

She looked up and smiled, "Yes, you can stay." She settled in deeper to him and sighed, closing her eyes. She listened to his heartbeat, start to steady, and felt his fingers lightly stroke her shoulder. 

She hadn't moved in a while, sleepiness taking over when she heard him whisper in the dark. "I think I understand what he meant." Then let herself fall asleep, to ask him what he meant in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Thank you all for reading, and if you are under quarantined I hope you're keeping yourself healthy. I got a beta! She really made a difference in this chapter and I couldn't be happier, hats off to Shannon Dias a literal word wizard if there ever was one.  
> I hope you like the chapter, the next one is going to be fun to write for a completely different reason. Also fun, this is the first legit smut scene I've ever written so I hope it was good. As always thank you for the comments, and I love you all!


	11. Around the Corner and Down the Lane

Marta woke up around a deliciously warm body, they’d twisted in the night onto their sides in a spooning position. His arm slung over her ribs. She would have stayed, but she heard the dogs whine past the door begging to be let out. Gently, she lifted his arm and slid from the bed, padding along the floor quietly. She got dressed quickly, tugging on a pair of thermal leggings, the same bra she flung off last night, and her patterned shirt with roses. 

Ransom turned in the bed, the sheet dropped, revealing more of his torso, and she flushed. She fixed the blanket over him. It was almost unfair how attractive she found him now. Marta wanted to get her thoughts together before they talked, work out some of the new things she was feeling. She was pretty sure she said she was falling in love with him, and while it was true, it worried her. What were they? She couldn’t remember much of his previous relationships only that they weren’t long, and they’d never met the family. She’d only heard about his relationships from Harlan and through the grapevine at whatever party the family was hosting.

A small part of her was sad, maybe they were only attracted to one another because they hadn’t done anything. She shook that thought from her head. It wouldn’t do good to speculate. She would let it play out, and try to respect whatever decision he’d say later, no matter how much it hurt. She leaned over Ransom, pressing a small peck on the side of his lips. “See you later.”

Opening the door, the dogs started weaving through her legs. “Come on, boys.”

When she opened the door, they were out like a shot, taking care of business. She eyed her car and the house, sighing she needed to go to the store. Though they hadn’t talked about it, they had taken a risk last night and if she would be more comfortable in the future if they had condoms. She would rather not leave, but the nurse in her told her not to be stupid and take a plan B just in case.

She waited for the dogs to come back before she grabbed her purse and keys and jotted down a quick note. _I’m going to the store, I’ll be back soon!_ That should work. She filtered through the jackets and settled on a thick button-down cardigan, checking her phone as she went out the door. 

Locking the door behind her, she eyed her car and made a note to buy an ice scraper while she was at the store. Grabbing one of the gas station membership cards from her wallet, she got to work, hoping the rear defrost would kick in and put a dent in the back before she got to it. The air was heavy with the scent of rain and stung her nostrils with how cold it was. 

She drove through the gate down the long road past the carved elephant. It was weird passing by the guardhouse and knowing no one was inside it. Weirder not driving past the police cars that had been stationed out the last two days too. But if it was so easy for life to return to normal, she was all for it. 

Driving on autopilot was dangerous, but her drifting thoughts turned to Walt. It wasn’t hard for her to believe he’d been the one to poison her and kill Mr. Proofroc. He hadn’t been the same man since the will reading, the one that said he’d help out if she needed it, that he’d been “outvoted.” Now he was just a man that threatened her family and tried to kill her.

But where was the line? Ransom had done the same, but he’d changed. _Maybe Walt could too?_ She took a deep breath. She wouldn’t. Not again. Feeling angry, she took a turn sharply into town. Leave it to the rest of the family to help him that would be best for her.

The town wasn’t very busy. She only shared the street with maybe two other cars, everyone else at work or home this morning. It was only Tuesday, nearing ten. She pulled into a parking lot near one of the closest mom and pop shops with a pharmacy. 

“Please be open, please be open.” Trotting to the door and pulling it open. Then to no one in particular, “Thank you.”

Marta went through the doors past some of the groceries and clearance spring decorations they were selling, going deep into the store until she reached the back wall. Marta finally found plan B and was glad that it wasn’t behind the counter. She added a box of condoms, then a bottle of water on the way to the checkout. After paying, she tucked the condoms away in the bag but took the pill and a swig of water, immediately feeling better with that bit of responsibility out of the way. 

She got back in the car, tossed the bag on the passenger seat. She pulled out her phone, looking for a breakfast place close by. Serious discussions went well with pancakes, at least she hoped so. A lot of diners popped up on the screen. Clicking one, she put the volume up so she could listen and drive. Something moved in her peripheral. She had just checked her rearview mirror when She felt a hand close around her throat. She jolted and gasped.

“Don’t do anything stupid. Keep driving.”

Breathing through her nose, she swallowed and tried to keep her voice even. “Richard, what are you doing?” She didn’t start begging for him to stop. She kept her eyes on the road and wondered what she should do that wouldn’t get her killed. 

“Come on, Marta, you’re pretty smart. I think you can figure this one out.”

“You framed Walt?”

He chuckled. “See, I knew I could count on you. Now that was fun. He didn’t see it coming. But I had to fix my mess.” Her eyes darted to her phone, and the hand around her throat squeezed tighter, “None of that now.” He plucked the phone from between the midsection. “Breakfast, huh? Jake’s is pretty good around here.” 

“That where we’re going?” Marta kept her tone light.

“Not exactly. Take a left here.” He put her phone in his pocket and switched to a small silver pistol that he aimed at the back of her seat. “Just in case you get any ideas.”

She took the turn, trying to think of what she could do, following the road as it made her go onto the pass that led out of town. 

“You got quite all of a sudden, what’s on your mind.”

“Do you care?”

“No, but I need you to keep talking to me, Marta.”

He was trying to get her to focus on him, and it was working. She could do the same, though. “I’m wondering why you’re doing this.”

“You know why.” He shrugged, “Or you’ll know eventually. Got to tell you, you didn’t exactly make it easy. All the cameras and the police.”

“What’d Mr. Proofroc do.”

“Well, after that little show you put on at the house, I stopped by and sad to say he caught me.”

“What was–

“See what you’re doing there kiddo, but save it for later.” He rolled his eyes, “tell me how’s Ransom doing.”

Marta ground her teeth, “He’s doing fine.”

“He seems to get along with the dogs. Thought they hated him.”

“Things change.” The road continued in a direction that was becoming more and more rural, but the road she noted was pretty well maintained. Painted lines, no potholes. Trees were beginning to span thicker along the way in clusters. The route was vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t place it.

He let out a loud ‘Ha!’ then said, “don’t I believe it. Take the next left.”

Marta gripped the steering wheel harder. She turned and finally latched onto an idea. Thankful for all those CSI shows Alice watched. She just hoped it worked. The hand at her throat tightened like he could guess what she was thinking.

“Kiddo–”

She pressed the gas and turned the wheel. The car left the street, and she couldn’t control it anymore. Richards’ hand left her neck the same time she heard the gun go off and the glass in front of her shatter. The car rolled over, again and again. More sounds of glass and metal crunching around her, the car finally rocked to a stop upside down on the slope. 

Marta gasped, feeling heat trickle down her forehead. That was not at all gentle, and she tried to stay awake, but the next time her eyes shut, she couldn’t open them.

###### 

She blinked hard against a construction light. Scrunching her face up and shifting her eyes away caused her head to spin. She fought against gulping in air, taking a slow breath that shuddered out of her and caused a sharp pain in her ribs. _Fractured? Broken?_ Zip ties dug into her wrists. She wanted to check her body for more injuries, but could only focus on the sound of someone moving in the distance.

She lay still, trying to get a bearing of where she was without alerting Richard. She turned slowly, taking in where she was. She remembered this place, Ransom’s house. It was different without his furniture. The large windows covered with curtains, some areas of the floor sat large amounts of plastic sheets and PVC pipes. She felt him get closer, and she closed her eyes.

Richard cursed, and her heart stuttered. He sounded close. He began to mutter, “How to do this? How to _do this_?” He shifted her onto her back. His shadow blocked out the light, and she tensed. She didn’t wait for him to finish what he was doing and thrashed up, knocking a bottle of liquid from his hand and into his shirt. He sputtered, “Son of a bi–”

Scrambling, she kicked out into his midsection, knocking him back. It was hard enough to move through the pain, but worse with her hands tied, she kept pushing herself back for space. Snarling at him while Richard hurried after her, trying to grab at her legs and slide her back. She kneed him in the shoulder, and he brought his fist down hard on her temple. She squeaked but kept trying to scurry away.

“Stop moving,” He pushed her down again, his hand covered her mouth, and she bit down hard. “ _Mother fucker!_ ” He threw her back and hit her again. “I said, stop.”

“Fuck you.” She spat, seeing spots. The feeling of blood trickling down her face and tasting it in the back of her throat almost made her gag. She knew it was her nose, and she spat the blood out. “Why?”

His tone dripping in sarcasm, replied “ _Why?_ Really Marta? You need to be more specific.” Richard’s face was a mess of cuts and mottled bruises. He still had the facial hair, white against spray-tanned skin. He’d bandaged his other arm and had a slight whistle when he breathed. “You really made a mess of things by crashing the car.”

“Can you blame me?” She gritted her teeth, “Why are you doing this.” 

“Well, that’s a complicated question.” He sat back on his heels and looked up. Over his shoulder, Marta saw through the kitchen window, it was dark outside, which meant it had been hours. Ransom had to know she was missing by this point.

“I’m sure we have the time.” 

He chuckled then grunted, “You’re certainly right about that. Let’s see. I don’t even know where to begin. You didn’t help yourself with that show you just did.”

“Would it have changed anything?”

“No.” Richard sat forward, clamping his hands together. He looked like he was getting ready to talk to a toddler. “I’ve been playing this game longer than you have. You were with Harlan for five years, and he gave you everything. I was with Linda for forty, and all I got was scraps.”

“So, this is about money?”

“Everything’s about money. But it’s also that you didn’t let me know Harlan knew about the affair.” He grimaced. “Still, you have a working-class image on how it works. We honor our arrangements.”

For a second, she wondered what he was talking about, “You’re mad I took away the allowances? But you poisoned me after I said I’d talk to Alan for you.”

“That’s not the full picture. That party changed a lot of things. Oh you really pulled a number on me, I was thinking about backing out, but the way you had the family eating out of the palm of your hand. You didn’t even hear me at the party– the way you spoke– it just rubbed me the wrong way.” He smiled as he considered her. “Like I was another person that needed a handout. It reminded me of Harlan.”

“How’d you know about the manuscript?”

“Alan passed along my things. Now, I didn’t know if Ransom’s story was still there or not, but since you were cleaning house.” He made a motion with his hands, like a scale tipping. “It was a gamble, but it paid off obviously. At first, it wasn’t about you. I was just doing what I thought my son would do– play with you, imagine my surprise when you would actually go to visit Ransom.”

“I mean, come on! It was like a lightbulb went off in my head. I could get what I wanted, do what he couldn’t, and you could trust him because he wasn’t the one who’d sent the letters. I’ll admit I didn’t know you’d get him out, let alone that he’d start screwing the help. Saw the bag when I was dragging you out of the car. Gotta admit Marta, I’m shocked.”

“Well, he’s different now.” Marta didn’t even realize she was shivering or how cold she actually felt. “You wanted him to grow up, and now you’re ruining that.”

“Oh, don’t throw my own words back in my face.” He stood up then went into the kitchen, grabbing something off the cabinet. Coming back with a tiny vial that he shook between two fingers. Marta didn’t think it was possible to feel colder, but he proved her wrong.

“What’s that.”

“Don’t play dumb, Marta. It’s not a good look for you.” Richard palmed the vial and put it in his pocket. He kicked the empty bottle on the floor. “Since you ruined plan A well, I don’t really want to do this here.”

She couldn’t see the label, didn’t know if she wanted too. “So you’re just going to kill me.”

“Not sure I have many choices. I have the rest of the money I earned, not much from skimming Linda, and your allowance. Besides, Cape Verde seems nice.”

“You don’t have to.” Marta eyed the pocket he placed the vial in. “Just let me go.”

“Got my hands tied, Marta. I’m not made for prison.”

“But you can do murder?”

He shook his head, “Get up.”

When she did nothing, he stalked forward—pulling Marta up, ignoring her gasps of pain. Richard jammed the gun in the small of her back. He was propelling her forward, walking her towards a door, past the kitchen. He opened it, and she smelt chlorine. The stairs were acrylic, lights illuminating the way down. 

“Get moving.” 

She moved slowly, but the gun made her pick up her pace. The room was sleek and modern, but empty. A giant pool made the light reflect off the water onto the walls. 

“I have to admit, my son has taste. It took two days to fill it.” He brought a leg up to kick behind her knee, and she landed hard on the floor. “This is where you’ll be for the night. There’s a bathroom over there, and well, that’s it. I’ll be back in the morning to get you for our trip. Try not to fall in.”

He left her, walking up the stairs and closing the door. She shifted, trying to right herself. The split in her lip opened up again. But she was alone, which was an opportunity. All she had to do was think. How would she get out of this?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we go again! Thank you again, Shannon, for helping me fix the horrible blunders. This one was fun to write! I'm pretty sure some of you figured out who did it :D. I've been trying to be sure I don't miss anything. I think it's driving me nuts. Quarantining is paying off with the writing bit though. I'm lucky to live with recluses that don't like to leave either. We've bonded lol. Anyway, thank you for reading and leaving comments! I can actually try to respond now that I don't have to worry about spoilers too much.


	12. Nick of Time

_14 hours ago._

Ransom stretched out an arm to pull Marta back to him only to meet empty sheets. He blinked open his eyes then groaned. Stupid as it was, he’d wanted to wake up before her, try to surprise her with coffee in bed. Last night had been the first time in a long time that he’d felt normal, and he wanted to savor it. Savor the way she made him feel.

He was scared for her. Scared that she was kind and loving. Mostly because in his experience, when people were kind, he exploited it, and he didn’t want it to happen to her. She wasn’t like anyone else he’d ever been with. Probably because she wasn’t a girl you dated if you wanted to fool around. She made him feel like life wasn’t just a game. She made him want to be a better person, not to change him but because she believed he could be.

He rolled onto his side and stretched, hearing the dogs bark outside the door. Typically they followed Marta, but they were growing on him. He quickly got changed in a pullover and jeans and headed out. Patting the dogs as they surrounded his legs. Walking down the stairs, then going to the door to let them out.

“Marta?” He called when there was no response he tried again, “Marta, I let the dogs out.” 

Still, nothing. Her purse, typically on the coat rack, was gone, so she was out. He noticed a piece of paper on the table. 

_I’m going to the store, I’ll be back soon!_

He sagged, “shit.” So much for a peaceful flirty morning, at least he hadn’t scared her off. Well, she’d probably be hungry when she got back. He went into the kitchen and grabbed stuff to make an omelet. It was moments like having her be gone that he really felt like this house was a new prison. At least they caught Walt yesterday. _Sly fucking weasel._ He should be glad the police got him first. 

Namaste and all that. He was beginning to sound like Joni. He was aware of the irony. Ignoring family, being ignored, now stuck in the house that was still very much filled with their presence. In some ways, it felt like Harlan was still here, hard not too when Marta left manuscripts and her coffee mug lying around.

He didn’t believe in fate, but this past couple of weeks had made him feel like he was a toy being jolted around. How was it that the healthiest relationship he’d ever been in started with him trying to murder her? But he was content with her coming back from a morning jog, happy. Not for the first time, he thought how fucking lucky he was that the knife he’d held a year ago wasn’t real. God, he was morbid.

He finally understood what Harlan meant in his will when he said that by excluding everyone that it would bring the family together. When Marta was cutting them off, she looked so strong and sure of herself. He’d never been prouder. He sighed, he couldn’t let himself be anywhere near her money. He thought of his dad and mom, money had worked to poison them, and eventually him. Look at him becoming self-aware.

He wondered what he would do when his year was up. He needed a job, and he was apprehensive, not scared, of writing. He also wanted to pay Marta back, even if he owed her a hundred times over what he could afford. She didn’t even know the power she had over him, and if she did, she didn’t use it. He liked her, more than anyone he’d ever been with. He didn’t know what to do with that. If it was the old version of him, he’d take it immediately. 

As he was now, he couldn’t do that. The eggs folded over neatly, and he placed them in the oven to stay warm. The dogs skittered around outside, thumping over the porch. Ransom rubbed his hands on a towel and went to let them in, only for them to blow past him towards the front door. _Guess Martas back._ Two outlines showed through the glass, and a pit settled in his stomach. They knocked as he’d approached. 

He opened the door and gestured for them to come in. “Sorry, Lieutenant, Marta’s out. But I guess you’ve probably figured that out already.” He knew these two weren’t fans of his, but he could try to be nice. Both men looked at each other then back at Ransom, who felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. “What’s wrong?”

“We found Marta’s car off the side of the road.”

“What the fuck do you mean you found Marta’s car?” Ransom swallowed, “Where is she?”

“We don’t know yet.”

“The fuck you mean, you don’t know?”

“It means we don’t know right now, we came to see if she said anything before she left.”

“She left a note saying she was going to the grocery store.”

“Time?”

“It was before I woke up, so before ten.” Ransom clenched and unclenched his fists, “Where was the car?” 

The Trooper answered, “Someone called next to Valley road, they found an overturned car. Plates were run, and they called to notify us that it was registered to Marta.” 

“An overturned car,” Ransom felt himself going pale, “I thought you guys said that this was Walt.”

The Trooper looked pained, “We were wrong.”

Ransom locked on to the man, the Trooper’s eyes were red and his fists clenched. Yeah, he felt responsible. Ransom felt a tickle in his own hands. He wanted to throttle the guy. He took a deep breath, “Someone framed him. Do you know who?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out. Trooper, call in that she went to a store, probably at the closest town, before ten.” Trooper Wagner left to talk on the phone while the Lieutenant continued. “We’re missing something, and your family is adept at lying. So if anything comes to mind, you need to let us know.”

“Like I haven’t been focused on that already?” He spread his arms, “not like I’ve got any fresh leads here.”

“They want us to go back.” The Trooper came back in, “We could give him the audio interviews we took?”

The Lieutenant sighed, to the Trooper, he said, “Fine. do you think that’s for the best?”

“It couldn’t hurt, besides he knows his family at least enough to sort through what they say. Besides, we have copies at the station.”

Lieutenant Elliot said, “You find anything, you call us. Like I said before, and I’ll say it again, you don’t go off the rails. Is that understood?”

He fought gritting his teeth. “Understood, just find her.” He ran a hand down his face. Trooper Wagner forwarded the audio files to Ransom on his email. Giving him the same warnings the Lieutenant did. Thankfully after, both men left, and Ransom fought to give them the bird. Instead, he quickly went to the study where he opened up Marta’s laptop.

He set up an area, hoping that using his memory to cross-reference what he knew from Marta, the police, and his family. There had to be something that would give him a clue as to who did it. This was very different on his own, though. He sent a text out to everyone asking what they were doing and only got a response from Jacob, telling him to fuck off. Figures.

Time trickled by both agonizingly slow and surprisingly quick. The light coming from the window, becoming dimmer and dimmer until he finally got up to turn on the light. Ransom kept marking notes until he got to the interviews taken right after the poisoning. Ransom grabbed his papers and started leafing through them. Poison with hand to hand contact meant that whoever did it had to leave immediately after to get it off their own hands. 

He didn’t think Joni had the guts, but she could surprise him. Still, there were his parents. His father was desperate enough, but he’d also shied away from getting his hands dirty. His mother didn’t really need a reason to do anything, she did what she wanted. 

He hesitated only briefly, crossing out his mom and Joni on the list. Just in case, he played the audio from that night. 

_“This is Detective Lieutenant Elliott and Trooper Wagner. We’re with Richard Drysdale an… an old acquaintance of Marta Cabrera. We are discussing the events the night of Miss Cabreras’s poisoning, three days ago, May 29th.”_

_“We were friends, actually.” Richard coughed, “Let’s see, I remember going over to her and thanking her for the invitation. It had been a while since my divorce, and I hadn’t really seen any of the family._

_“You don’t even see your own son?”_

_“No, no, figured it’d be frowned upon with you know.” There was silence._

_The Lieutenant followed by stating, “let the record show that Richard Drysdale just shoved a pretend knife in his chest.”_

_“is it really necessary to share that?”_

_“It’s a recording, not a video Mr. Drysdale, please continue with the party.”_

_” Well, I stole her away for a moment.” He hummed, “She was just talking to Linda and Walt.”_

_“And what did you talk about?”_

_“I said I wanted to still be included in the family, and she offered to give me an allowance, nice kid. As I said, it’s been rough without Linda.”_

_“She offered an allowance?”_

_“She did. Said she’d talk to her lawyer about it, so check with him to be sure I’m not lying.”_

_“Did you touch her anywhere?”_

_“Now what kind of question is that? I think I’d remember if I did.”_

_“Sorry, Donna said you were passing woman to woman at the party.”_

_“I’m a single man now, and women of quality haven’t been readily available in my new life.”_

_“And women of quality being?”_

_“Money.”_

_“When did you leave?”_

_“Sometime after the ambulances cleared out.”_

_“Did you see anyone else leave?”_

_“Walt and his family left before the ambulances showed up. Maybe try there.”_

Jesus, what types of questions were those. But he had to hand it to him, he was always pointing the finger at Walt. If this situation hadn’t set a weight in his stomach, he might fixate on that, remember how many times he pointed the finger at someone else, but every tick of the clock was grating on him. He really wanted to speed run this, grabbing the phone he dialed the Trooper. 

“Hello, Trooper Wagner, here.”

“Hey it’s Ransom.”

His tone changed, “What’d you find?”

“It’s Richard.”

“What did you find?”

“Nothing incriminating on a recording, looking at everyone else, he has nothing to lose.” He didn’t add the bits about growing up with the man, and just knowing his dad’s ability to fuck him no longer surprised him.

“Listen, Ransom, we’re not just going to arrest someone on a hunch.”

“You did last time.” He bit out. “Hold him for 24 hours I don’t care, just try it.”

Trooper sounded distant as he said, “Such an asshole...” 

“So I’ve been told.”

The silence on the line would have made him think the Trooper hung up, but he spoke up again, “We’ll see, we’re on the way to his apartment now.”

“Where’s his apartment?”

“Brookline.” Ouch. “Keep looking, might find something else.” Then he hung up.

Ransom let the phone leave his hand and clatter to the desk. Did they even care, he didn’t fucking know. Couldn’t trust that they did. Really he felt useless, trapped. The clock on the mantle went off. Ten in the evening, it’d been roughly twelve hours since anyone had seen Marta.

Ransom listened to the rest of the recordings, the ones that stuck out were these three, but only because there was a lie hidden in here. He was missing something, and it was driving him nuts.  
That was ten hours of fear, of pain, of being alone that plagued him. He listened to the recordings again. A new dread working its way into his stomach. 

Suddenly he found himself saying, “I never told my father I had a pool.”

He tried calling Linda and found himself fidgeting, the phone ringing then being forwarded to her message machine. He tried again, and again.

Finally, she answered, “Really–”

“Mom, it’s me.” Ransom said, “I need your help.”

“Why? Nevermind that, don’t answer. I’m busy.” 

Cutting through the bullshit, “Who did you sell my house to?”

“I sold it to your father.” He could practically hear her straightening her spine. “So if you need anything you should call him–”

Ransom hung up, “Mother fucker!” Standing now, he tried the Trooper again only to be ignored, once, twice, three times. Ransom through the phone cursing, leaving the room. What could he do, what could he do. He left the house, going towards the garage. Praying for the first time in a long time, there was a car inside. Marta had the keys to the house, a discussion that didn’t really matter when he would be staying inside it. 

Now he tried the door, which cluttered with the lock. He brought his foot up and kicked the door open. She’ll forgive him later. Inside, covered in a sheet, was Harlan’s old Shelby cobra. It’d probably been at least sitting for a year, and honestly, he was fucked if it didn’t run, He pressed the button to open the garage then hopped into the car, keys in the dashboard, then tried the car, it roared to life, almost angry at being forgotten. 

Ransom didn’t waste any more time, turning the car on, then bolting it out into the night. Trying to focus on what he would do when he got there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long, life hit hard. I had to make multiple arrangements surrounding it. My beta, Shannon was able to look over it and now here it is. Thank you all for waiting, liking, commenting. I adore you all, and this fic really will be finished. Just a bit stunted as I figure out what I'm going to do.


	13. Vulcan's Den

Marta bit back a cry of frustration as she tried once again to break the zip ties holding her wrists together. The adrenaline left her feeling cold and in pain. She was stuck in a room where the only light came from the pool, reflecting water dancing across the walls. There were no windows, dark ceiling disks, and a door propped open on the opposite end of the pool by a cinder block. 

Marta slowly rolled her feet under her, she needed to find something to help her. She rocked herself up, trying hard not to teeter into the pool. Under normal circumstances, she was an excellent swimmer. But that was when she had full control over her body and no broken bones. The room, she discovered, was a bathroom. She shouldered the door open and kicked the block to hold it back, wincing at the sound the block made sliding across the floor. 

She hesitated for a few seconds to see if Richard would come down. When nothing happened, she resumed her search for the light. The sight that greeted her in the mirror was not a pretty one. Dried blood coated parts of her face. Her left eye was black, and the hair at her temple was matted with blood, indicating a cut she couldn't see. Her nose was only slightly swollen at the bridge, and her lip was split. If Richard thought he'd be taking her anywhere public without question, he'd be wrong.

She turned around, grabbed at the drawers with her hands, and opened them. Only to turn around and find nothing. She tried again with the other, which carried extra shelves for the drug cabinet. A sound above her made her scurry back to her spot from moments ago. She slid down the wall and arranged herself like she hadn't moved. Sweat beaded on her forehead from how hard she'd worked, but still, she feigned sleep.

The basement door opened, and Richard thudded down the stairs. He walked over and kicked her shoe. "Stay with me, Marta, not done with you yet." When she didn't respond, he kicked her again harder.

Blinking, she said, "I think we both know I'm not leaving anytime soon." She eyed the gun he had tucked into his slacks, he followed her line of sight and shifted it towards his back. He also had a roll of duct tape that wore like a bracelet.

He chuckled, "See, you got your sense of humor back, you're already on the mend." He palmed his phone and crouched down next to her. "I'm going to need you to transfer some money to me."

"Alan handles all the money, I don't ever touch it."

"Wait a minute, Marta? Are you telling me I have to drag Alan down here to do this." This time he actually laughed. "Stop lying."

"I'm not." She said. 

He shook his head. "There's a first time for everything. Honestly, we're going to need you to figure it out. Do you have the passwords?"

Marta pursed her lips, she did. They were still her accounts. At her silence, Richard got his answer.

"Oh… This is fun. You know I always thought your puking was bullshit. Now I only remember that one time, when was it? The party with the Mob game. But now I just have to know." He leaned in close. "Do you hate our guts?"

"No." She said, steel entering the edge of her voice. 

"Now that's disappointing." He sighed, and an 'ahh-ha' expression crossed his face. "What about me specifically, do you hate me?" She didn't say anything and felt Richard tug on her hair to look up at him. "Do you hate me?"

"I didn't before."

"I gotta admit, it never occurred to me that the questions had to be so direct. Lying by omission doesn't seem to faze you, huh." He let go of her hair. "So, how long did Harlan know about the affair?"

"A month."

He nodded, "That seems about right. You know, I'm kinda at a loss. I want to ask all these questions, but now nothing seems to come to mind. Weird how that happens." He unlocked the phone, "What's your bank again?"

"Michigan Mutual."

"Password?"

She was silent. Really not wanting to give it up without a fight. After she did, she was sure he would kill her. Really it was all she had left. She stared at the pool, and he repeated the question.

"Come on Marta, you're a good kid, I don't want to make this worse than it already is."

"Can it really get worse." She whispered. "I'm going to die anyway."

"Yes, but it's how you'll die. I could make it easy. Vials for that are upstairs or," He paused. "I could get creative." 

"Nothing I'm going to say is going to get me out of this is there?" She tilted her head, looking at him.

"'Fraid not." 

She nodded, "Then guess we both aren't going to get what we want."

Richard sighed, "I wish you picked the easier option." then hit her again, just to daze her. It worked as she felt the world warp. He walked over to the bathroom and lightly kicked the cinder block. "I see you've been looking around, not that I blame you." He grunted when he picked it up. 

Picking herself off the floor was hard enough already. She could try to scramble up the stairs to freedom if she even got that far. God, she was frustrated, still tugging on the zip ties with the back of her hands, she wished she'd paid more attention to Alice's rambling about kidnappers and escaping. Instead, she was slowly making her way around the pool, getting ready to play a sick game of cat and mouse.

"You look like you got a plan, I can appreciate that." 

"Oh, shut up, Richard." She darted forward, trying to shoulder him into the pool, she caught him slightly off guard. But he braced himself and dropped the cinder block to swing her around. Landing on the floor with a hard thump, he kicked her again. It was weaker than the last time but enough to empty the air in her lungs. It didn't work, disappointed and tired, she didn't want to think anymore. 

"Was that it, now are you done?"

She couldn't even try to work up the energy to respond. God, that was sad, maybe in another universe that would have worked. Not like she had many other options.

"Didn't expect this much of a fight out of you."

She felt tears sting the corner of her eyes. She didn't either, the same survival instinct that Harlan's investigation pushed her towards wanting to see her mother again, help Alice with school, make Ransom act human. She wondered how he'd react when he found out his father killed her. The old version of him might've laughed. Maybe it'd be better for him if he did, less pain. Richard was stringing the duct tape around the cinder block, then grabbed for her ankle again. Something inside her made it, so she still tried to kick out. 

"Now, that was pathetic. Not gonna happen a second time." He chuckled, wrapping the tape around his ankle and then connected to tape to the block. He was sweating, showing just how tired he was as well. "I still really want that money, Marta."

"We can't always get what we want, Richard."

"I've already killed a guy." He said. She closed her eyes and took quick breaths through her nose. "I don't need much, just enough. I might even leave you down here."

So blood loss and concussion could take her out. Instead, she joked. "Funny how, after everyone figured out your commitment issues, you still can't make up your mind."

She didn't need to look at him. His tone was brittle as he grabbed more duct tape, leaned forward, and pressed the tape to her mouth. "You know, the help really should know when to keep their mouths shut."

He stood, then looked at her. "This would've been easier if I had another person, but. Oh, well." He dragged her shoulder towards the lip of the pool, and she wiggled in his grip. Still not wanting to make it easy. He dropped her, in that one moment he looked exactly like Ransom right before he tried to kill her, and she hated that she made the comparison. She took a deep breath through her nose right as he kicked her into the pool.

Water bubbled around her, shockingly cold. The cinder block tugged her down, and she moved towards the surface. But she was held by the weight which lamely dragged along the bottom of the pool with her movements. Her lungs were on fire, and she tried desperately to break the surface for even a breath, she managed once- twice, then it got harder. It was so close. It felt so wrong to give up, and so she wouldn't at least not till her lips parted, and her last bit of air escaped her.

###### 

Ransom knew enough about the house to know he wouldn't have the element of surprise if he drove up, so he found himself creeping up on foot. Looking through the slits in the windows to find no sign of his father. Near the door, he flipped over rocks till he found the spare he'd taped to the bottom of one after one night sleeping in his car.

He looked through the space between sheets covering the window, not seeing anything indication of where his father was. It made him anxious. He unlocked the door, careful as he closed it shut behind him. That little action makes everything shift, feel like he's stepped into the unknown.

From what he could see, his house had been gutted, the flooring scuffed and bare, sheets covering walls where the tile had been, and construction equipment that looked like it hadn't been used spread across the room.

He felt the hair on the back of his neck rise, as he focused on the plastic sheet spotted with blood. Thoughts of Richard coming through the front door an hour from now covered in dirt and holding a shovel were pushed aside. Instead, his eyes followed a smear leading towards the kitchen. Empty boxes of takeout from places his father liked to eat and some empty beer bottles littered the counter. 

The pool door opened, and Richard came into the room, wiping his hands. He looked up and made eye contact with Ransom. Shock painted his face for a second before the usual smarmy look fixed itself on Richard's face.

"Son."

"Richard." 

"Didn't expect you here," Richard straightened, radiating calm. "Can I get you a drink?"

Ransom didn't respond, taking in the bruises surrounding Richard's face, the blood on his sweater, the scratches on his knuckles. Then he was in front of him, fire coursing through him. Ransom grabbed his father's throat, and he smashed Richard's head into the wall, fingers curling around his neck, pressing hard to his windpipe. 

"Where is she?" His eyes burned, the feeling of anger so intense it left him empty. 

Richard used one hand to claw at Ransom. Richard grimaced, punching into Ransom. Ransom held steady, grunting through the pain. Richard began to fumble, trying to grab something. Grasping hold of something hard, he slammed it into Ransom's head. 

Ransom released his hold, enough for Richard to gasp in a breath and then kick Ransom back. He caught himself near the kitchen island, bottles crashing into the floor. A warm trickle lightly made its way down his face, and he watched Richard raise the gun he just hit him with.

Richard gasped, tugging on the collar of his neck with his other hand, he took gasping breaths. "Jesus, all this over some Guatemalan–"

"Don't!" Ransom said, taking a palm to touch the side of his head, blood matted his palm. "Not another fucking word."

"What is this? This isn't you, son." Richard said. "You wouldn't kill your old man, would you?"

"I don't know, you wouldn't point a gun at your son, would you Dick?"

Richard rolled his eyes, "Always hated that variation. Now, back to the issue at hand."

"Are you going to shoot me?"

"Well, I wouldn't want to." Richard shifted, looking at something then coming back to Ransom. He moved. Ransom turned, blocking Richards' gait. "Son?" He tapped the gun, "really would rather not have to use this."

"You should have shot me already."

"That hurts, I couldn't do that to you." Richard smiled, "Ah, you think I'm bluffing." He cocked the gun, making a hollow clicking sound. 

They stared at each other, and Ransom took a step forward. Richard narrowed his eyes and gave a relaxed smile, letting the gunpoint sway back and forth before making it clatter to the floor. He raised his hands in a placating manner. "Seems I couldn't get that past you."

Ransom was still tense while Richard let out a laugh, "Can you blame me for trying? We're men of action. We do the things that need to get done. Take Harlan, for example." Richard's monologue kept droned. "He didn't expect us to act, just sit and wait for scraps."

Ransom fought really hard to keep his expression neutral. Richard's words going inside one of his ears and out the other. Ransom's eyes drifted to the door that led to the pool, and suddenly he knew, his dad was buying time. Richard shifted back from the counter he was just at to stand blocking the view of the door.

"Afraid I'll see something I shouldn't, dad?"

Richard's tone changed. Hardening. "You took too much after Harlan, sticking your nose where it doesn't belong, you were my son damn it!"

"Not doing this now, where's Marta?"

"Depends, son." Richard's nostrils flared, "such an ungrateful little sh--" 

Ransom punched Richard in the nose, who's head whipped back while Richard swung an into Ransom's side. A piercing pain stabbed between his ribs, causing him to back up while Richard collapsed against the kitchen island, holding his nose, fresh blood coating his fingers.

Ransom's hand searched his side, and he felt nausea well inside his chest when his hands made contact with the syringe deep in his ribs. For one stupid moment, Ransom thought it was a prop, and he tugged the needle free. He looked at Richard, "You didn't..."

"In for a penny," Richard said, then lunged towards Ransom holding a broken bottle. They knocked against the basement door, banging against it. Ransom tried to get the upper hand only for Richard to stab him in the same spot with the glass. 

Ransom grunted and gave another palm strike against Richard's nose. Richard shoved Ransom back again, trying to dodge when the door hinges gave way. Ransom grabbed Richard's arm, and they rolled down the stairs. 

On the bottom, they spread out on the floor. Richard was finally unconscious on Ransom. He struggled out from under him and tossed his father's body to the side. Ransom got up, trying to apply pressure to his side then turned towards the pool. He froze, making out the shape of a body underwater.

Rushing towards the pool, he dove into the water, grabbing–pulling, attempting to bring Marta to the surface. It was a fucking chore, a heavy tugging going with him as he hung her limp arms around his neck. He managed to kick them both over, his heart racing while he kept her face above the surface.

He took them as quickly as possible to the side of the pool. A dull sound of whatever held her down thudding against the bottom of the pool, sloshing water, and heavy huffs of his breath the only sounds in the room. Bringing her halfway out of the water, he climbed up and quickly ripped off the tape from her mouth, ignoring the search for a pulse that most likely wasn't there. He just began mouth to mouth resuscitation.

He was beginning to feel nauseous, cold, clammy. He didn't know what the fuck he was doing. Head filling with the beat of _Staying alive,_ he pumped her chest. Tilted her head back, breathed into her mouth, watched her chest rise and fall. Then began again. 

It felt like hours, and still nothing. "Come on, Marta." He pumped harder, "don't do this. Not this."

Breathing in deeply again, he heard groaning and knew Richard was awake. Ransom ignored him, straining his peripherals to watch for movement while he focused on Marta. He was convinced that if he stopped, then Marta would be gone for good. Water pooled around her, bruises and scratches decorated a good portion of her skin. He could only imagine what her chest looked like, he didn't want to cause her any more pain. But he wasn't about to give up.  
.   
Ransom breathed into her mouth and began compressions again. His eyes stung, and there was a tickle in the back of his throat. "Shit, come on," he whispered. "Come the fuck on." 

He was waiting for that movie moment, where the water came out of her mouth, for her to cough and open her eyes, he wouldn't stop till it happened. Even as a commotion sounded from upstairs, and the clatter of several feet filled the room.

"Jesus Christ." Lieutenant Elliot breathed out. "We need medic down here!"

A female voice continued, rattling off injuries into a walkie talkie. A couple of officers came around the pool and tried to touch him. He shrugged them off and kept doing compressions. The sounds were getting fuzzy, and he wondered if the morphine was kicking in, how long had it been? He felt himself getting slower, blackness filled his vision as several people pulled him away. He was laid back on the floor—a police officer taking over for him. 

Someone was trying to take his pulse, "We gotta problem, this guy's ODing."

"What?" somewhere in the room, "We need these two evaced stat–"

Ransom, turned to the side and looked at Marta, funnily enough, Trooper Wagner had taken over the CPR. Idly, Ransom wondered if he should punch him for mouth to mouth when he saw him next or not. His vision faded again. The last thing he heard before he lost consciousness was Trooper's voice call out, "we got a pulse!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this took so long. I really am, when I say life is crazy and I've been busy I wish I could say I was lying. I appreciate you that still are reading and commenting. I struggled through this chapter (which was only 500 words) and had to fix and edit this to be roughly 3000. I dont know how but it happened and I'm glad I can give it to you all. Thank you so much, I will get started on the next and can only hope that you like where this one went.


	14. Keeper

The study filled with warm light, reflecting his face across the room. Ransom stood suddenly from the plush chair he’d been sitting in.

“You can’t be serious.” Blinking, Ransom paced forward and looked at Harlan still sitting in his chair. His hands clasped atop of the desk.

“Not a red dime or word of my work to a single one of them, you included.” Harlan looked resolute, and Ransom suddenly remembered how stubborn his grandfather could be.

“You’re not this crazy. You wouldn’t throw your fortune away.”

“No,” Harlan said, his expression grave. “I’m giving it to Marta. All of it.”

He threw out a ‘ha.” though laughing was the furthest thing from his mind. “To your Brazilian nurse, are you goddamn insane?!”

“I’m sane for the first time in my life, and I’ve done it. I’ve made the change to my will. it’s done”

Ransom strode forward, dwarfing Harlan, yet he didn’t even flinch, still didn’t as Ransom continued. “I’m going to stop this Harlan, I’m warning you!”

Harlan just nodded his head, leaned back, and tapped the desk twice. “What’s done is done.”

Ransom couldn’t take it anymore, grabbing his jacket then thrusting the study door open, not caring how the clatter suddenly caused the sudden stop of far off chatter. Just breezed out past Greatnana onto the porch. Her small voice trailed behind him.

“Ransom, are you leaving?”

He blinked, turning his head round. The study, orange light tinting the walls and Harlan sitting at the desk, hands clasped.

Ransom felt an odd tickle, but the words came out anyway, almost stuttering in disbelief, “You can’t be serious.”

“Not a red dime or word of my work to a single one of them, you included,” Harlan uttered his tone tense. Ransom looked down at Harlan’s hands, worn from years of typing. His veins standing out against the thin layer of skin. His own hands felt off, his left cold while his right felt weighted and warm. Harlan’s voice pulled him back to the moment.

“You’re not this crazy. You wouldn’t throw your fortune away.” But he would, and he could.

“No,” Harlan said, his expression grave, set. “I’m giving it to Marta. All of it.”

He threw out a ‘ha.” though it was hollow. “To your Brazilian nurse, are you goddamn insane.”

“I’m sane for the first time in my life, and I’ve done it. I’ve made the change to my will. It’s done.”

Ransom strode forward, dwarfing Harlan. He tried to use his height. His build to his advantage. Ransom continued. “I’m going to stop this Harlan, I’m warning you!”

Harlan just nodded his head, leaned back, and tapped the desk twice. “What’s done is done.”

Ransom felt the familiar anger rise up and swung around. Grabbing his jacket, he tossed the door open. The clatter suddenly caused a sudden stop of far off chatter. He rushed past Greatnana out onto the porch. Her small voice trailed behind him.

“Ransom, are you leaving?”

Ransom turned, suddenly staring at his grandfather. He didn’t even need to hide the surprise on his face. And Harlan raised his brow while Ransom’s words left his mouth almost robotically.

“You can’t be serious?” He looked around, but no matter what he did it felt stuck.

Harlan seemed to take a breath before he began again, “Not a red dime or word of my work to a single one of them, you included.” Weird, his eyes always held a bit of steel, and now it seemed like they were just tired. Was he the last one being told?

“You’re not this crazy. You wouldn’t throw your fortune away.” Ransom uttered. Looking around the room, a game of GO stopped in the middle sitting in the corner. Were they playing that? Before Harlan had said, he said he had something important to tell him? But he’d heard this before.

“No. I’m giving it to Marta. All of it.”

The ‘Ha’ forced its way out. “To your Brazilian nurse, are you goddamn insane?” This wasn’t right, she’s not Brazilian. Ransom shook his head and focus on Harlan.

“I’m sane for the first time in my life, and I’ve done it.” With the subtle shake of his shoulders, Harlan’s eyes drifting down to his hands clasped together, then Harlan was looking Ransom right in the eye. “I’ve made the change to my will. It’s done”

Ransom strode forward, steps slow. “I’m going to stop this, Harlan, I’m warning you.”

Harlan just nodded his head, leaned back, and tapped the desk twice. “What’s done is done.”

Ransom felt heat. So much of it. He wanted to stay, talk it out with his grandfather but couldn’t stop himself from gathering his jacket. He tossed the door open, ignoring the clatter, forcing himself to hesitate before rushing past Greatnana out onto the porch. Her small voice trailed behind him.

“Ransom, are you leaving?”

Guilt welled up in his chest and stuck itself in the back of his throat. His eyes shut and opened, once again in the study. How many times, how long had he been doing this. Ransom fought it, really he tried, but the words choked out, raspy. “You can’t be serious?”

Was this hell? He didn’t know. 

Harlan nodded, but his brows raised. He sighed then began again. “Not a red dime or word of my work to a single one of them, you included.” There was the exhaustion again. God, how could his Grandad handle it? How long had it been since he began to plan this? Long enough to talk Alan into changing the will. 

“You’re not this crazy,” Ransom said. He brought a hand to his throat, covering his mouth at least—the next words mumbling out. “You wouldn’t throw your fortune away. Stop.”

Harlan ignored the last word, the monologue continuing. “No. I’m giving it to Marta. All of it.”

Ransom gulped, “To your nurse? Are you goddamned insane?”

Harlan looked Ransom up and down, a slight change in his tone as he said. “I’m sane for the first time in my life, and I’ve done it. I’ve made the change to my will. It’s done.” 

Ransom stayed where he was, and that was almost worse. He grabbed his jacket, the words slow, collected. “I’m going to stop this, Harlan, I’m warning you.”

Harlan nodded. “What’s done is done.”

Ransom stood there in silence. Holding the position for as long as he could, willing Harlan to say something, anything else. Then he turned and left. He didn’t swing the door. Just walked past Greatnana.

“Ransom, are you leaving?”

“Be back soon, nan.”

The study, darker. Ransom looked at the light, then back to the shadow of Harlon by his desk. The words were heavy vibrating the back of his skull. 

“You can’t be serious?”

“Not a red dime or word of my work to a single one of them, you included.” 

“You’re not this crazy. You wouldn’t just throw your fortune away” Honestly, it was better this way. No one in this family actually worked. The one who put in all the work was Harlan. Why should Ransom care what he did with his money?

“No. I’m giving it to Marta. All of it.” 

Marta. Giving it to Marta. Good. Wait, where was Marta? Ransom turned to the side. Wanting to leave but couldn’t.

“I’m sane for the first time in my life—”

“Ransom?”

He turned around, and Harlan stopped. His mouth set, waiting. Ransom finally found his voice and asked, “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“Someone saying my name.”

“No one here, just you and me.” Harlan leaned back and tapped his desk twice, “Are you redirecting? It won’t stop us from finishing this conversation.”

“Ransom?” He turned again, looking at the GO board’s pieces, stones set in a beautiful pattern. He moved towards the board, and Harlan stood skidding his chair across the floor.

“Don’t, we haven’t finished talking. I’ve—”

Ransom hesitated, “made the change to your will, it’s done.” He trailed off. His eyes glued to the stones.

Harlan sank just a bit and sighed. “She was a better GO player than you.”

This time the “ha” that left wasn’t forced. Ransom nodded. “I know.”

When he touched the board, he felt lightheaded, the world seemingly spinning.

###### 

Sweat dotted his forehead, and a damp cloth wiped it away. “Maybe opening a window will cool you down?” The shifting of the fabric moving away from him, the smell of cashmere and apricots. Light and soft settled over him. He squinted his eyes, turning away from the fluorescents and seeing Marta open the shades and the window vent.

Her hair was down, something he thought looked good on her. He might mention it later. She was wearing a knitted orange cardigan and a pair of jeans from what he could see, her socks were mismatched. She turned around and looked at him, letting out a loud gasp that she covered with her hand.

“Ransom?”

“The one and only.” He winced, shutting his eyes tight. “Think I’m going to puke.”

She rushed forward because he couldn’t, grabbing a glass of water before he even had to ask. “Drink.”

He followed her order, all the while taking in the small cuts on the side of her face that were partially healed, the bruises only slightly yellow. She took the plastic cup back and set it on the table.

“Better?”

“Much.” He stared a moment longer at the marks on her neck.

“Most of them are gone.” She tugged at the high collar of her neck. She laughed just a bit hoarse. “Some are just a little more noticeable. Some of the other nurses gave some suggestions for them to heal quicker.”

"Use any of them? The suggestions?"

"Times the biggest tool with healing."

She took his hand, rubbing her thumb back and forth. “I’m going to get the doctor, okay?”

“Do you have to?”

“Yeah.” She moved a hand up, hesitating on his shoulder.

“Got to admit, I didn’t expect to be alive.” Despite the water, his voice was rough. 

“I just—” She sighed, “it’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing,” He said. He brought his hand up and grabbed hers. “How long?”

“Just over a week.”

“Shit.” 

A soft sound came from the back of her throat. “You’re awake. That’s all that matters,” weight adding itself to her voice as she continued. 

“It’s not the only thing.” He looked away, and it felt like he was back pumping on her chest. He swallowed, not noticing that she got closer while he was stuck in his head. “I just need a moment.”

She murmured, “Okay, take a moment then.” She moved to sit on the bed with him. He didn’t realize it, but he was grasping her like he couldn’t believe she was there, and she was rubbing his arm towards his shoulder, soothing motions. His throat burned, and he didn’t even stop when he felt his eyes water. She ran her fingers through his hair and over his neck. “We’re okay.”

He nodded into her chest, “Yeah, we’re okay.” He let her go reluctantly. “Is he dead?”

“No. He’s not.” 

Ransom leaned back. _Shit_ was stuck in the back of his throat, but Marta was watching him, knowing what he was thinking so instead he asked, “How do you feel about that?”

“It’s complicated.” She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. “I’m frustrated because I felt—feel that he needed to be caught. To answer for what he did, but after everything, I don’t know.” she rubbed her arms.

Ransom understood where she was coming from, “I don’t mean it in a bad way. I just wanted to know where you are.”

“I—” she stopped, took a breath. “Doctor.”

Ransom took her hand, “Later?”

She looked out the door, then back to him, squeezing his hand. “Yeah, later.” She gave him a soft kiss and left.

The Doctor wasn’t quick. He told them that he should stay for at least a couple more days to run tests and make sure he was safe to go home. Ransom tried not to appear dazed as he answered questions, got his vitals taken, and the verbal run-through of what happened. Richard sank roughly 87 milligrams of morphine into Ransom’s side.

He wasn’t shocked. He knew on the drive over that if Richard was willing to go this far that he’d be willing to kill them. He just nodded. Marta just shook her head and rubbed her arms like she was cold. The Doctor left, citing if light sensitivity, rashes, vertigo, or blurring vision should occur to let staff know immediately. 

He didn’t know what expression passed his face, but Marta went over to the window, staring out into the city.

“I thought he was too much of a coward to do anything. I was wrong, I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t. We thought it was Walt.” She sighed, “We should apologize.”

“The police are the ones that arrested him, they’re the ones that can apologize around whatever lawsuit is being built around them.” She hummed, and Ransom continued. “You seem different.”

“Tired. I think I’m tired.” She rubbed her temples, “Things changed while you were in a coma”

He felt his heart sink and felt his jaw clench. “I know.”

She let out a small laugh, “of course you would know.”

They looked at each other. Some long drawn out silences that were taking in each other, seemingly different. Ransom felt like everything was fine so long as she was here, safe. But she had more time to think on this than he had. He couldn’t just ignore the elephant in the room.

Ransom spoke first. “Tell me now, because this would be the time to do it. Do you still want this?”

She walked over to the chair, sitting down. “What do you mean?”

“Do you want this to end?”

She shook her head, “I don’t want it to be.”

“Then why?” He let out a breath and wished he could run his hand through his hair.

“Why do I look so sad?” She finished.

“Yeah, that.” He leaned back, closing his eyes. “I can handle whatever your gonna say, Marta. Just get it over with.” He waited till he felt a sharp pinch on his hand. “Hey?”

“Don’t.” Marta took his hand. “Like I said before, I went to get the doctor, we’re okay.”

“We’re okay?” But then why?

“Yeah.” She hesitated, “My mother's back.”

Ransom let out a soft ‘oh’ saying, “I assume she hates my family with a burning passion.”

“She’s condemned you all to hell multiple times, yes.” Marta played with his fingers.

“So, where am I going when we leave?”

“The house.” Marta sat up straighter at that.

“Will she be alright with that?”

“She doesn’t have to be, she’s staying in a hotel.”

Ransom shook his head, “Is that the—”

“I’ve had this talk already. She came to take care of me, and she did, now she would like to stay in a hotel.” Marta shook her head. “Then she’s going to go back and look for a place to live with Alicia. Maybe do something else, it’s a work in progress.”

Ransom took her hand, “Marta. Are you okay?”

Her eyes glistened, huffing out some words Ransom couldn’t hear then, “I told her I wouldn’t choose, and she said she would make a choice for me. That’s the deal, Ransom, so I’m trying to keep an open mind but,” she paused taking a deep breath trying to hold her tears in, she’d cried hard enough already. “I’m trying to keep an open mind, but she doesn’t understand.”

She held onto his hand. Struggling to get the next words out, “And I don’t know if I belong here anymore. In Boston.” She looked at him, trying to read his eyes. How could she explain that everything felt like a prison? Harlan’s shadow was everywhere, Ransom's past, everywhere. The Thrombeys asking if she was okay, over and over again, not realizing she was struggling to breathe. How would Ransom react to her wanting so badly to leave, she didn’t want him to feel abandoned, but she also didn’t want to resent him if he didn’t want to go.

Whenever he looked at her like that, gaze and brows set, she felt like he could read her thoughts, which wasn’t fair to her. He couldn’t know how she felt. It was hard before he woke up, harder coming into the hospital hoping he hadn’t died in his sleep. But this, him being awake asking her if she was okay, told her that she wasn’t okay. Nothing felt okay. She felt uprooted and used and so tired.

“Where do you want to go?”

“Anywhere. I just can’t be here anymore.” Marta hunched over and laid her head on the bed. Ransom put his hand there, stroking her hair.

“Then we go. Easy as that.”

Marta turned into his hand, “Easy as that?”

“Yeah, anywhere you want. I’ll follow.”

“What about the publishing company?”

“Sell it off, just not to Walt.”

They both smiled at that, then she asked, “What about the house?”

“I know a guy who has a history of burning things down. I could make it look like an accident for real this time, collect the insurance.”

“We’re not burning down Harlan’s house.” Marta sat up and shook her head. 

“We’ll have plenty of time to relax here while we brainstorm what to do with it.”

“It’s not supposed to be a vacation, Ransom.”

“I’m an opportunist.”

“I didn’t forget.” She sighed, "I have to meet with her later."

When she didn't continue, he rubbed her arm, "Okay, then, just take it easy."

###### 

The rest of the week, Ransom was bored beyond belief. He had to meet with a physical therapist for walking and also a corrections officer on his continued house arrest. Those meetings were painful, and Ransom pushed through them just so he could be alone. 

Painful because it seemed like his sentence was tied to his house arrest in Massachusetts. There would be no leaving for him for at least another half a year. Every time they bought it up they were back to dancing on eggshells around one other. He was trying to sort out how to talk with her and deal with his thoughts on everything. 

When Marta was there, in the flesh. He wanted to be better, and so he tried to show it too. When she visited, he focused on her, listened. It was obvious she felt trapped, and he felt like the asshole that put her there. Some of his darker thoughts didn’t help. The voice in his head saying he was keeping her here. That he’d already tried to kill her once. Or what right did he have then to stand with her? 

She went to go talk to her mother, didn’t say what was said, but she was quieter after. More in her head than before. He wanted her to be happy, healthy, free. But if he was the shackle keeping her here, even breaking apart her family, he didn’t know if he could do that to her. She gave him things to do. She would come in, bringing some manuscripts for him to work over in his free time. She added her two cents from time to time, giving Ransom a smile, ignoring the serious looks he shot her way. 

It was harder for him to put the ball in her court. He wanted her to have control, so he let her direct their conversations. He didn’t mention these tough topics already hanging over their head like the sword of Damocles. The news that was still focused on her kidnapping, which blew up more when his family had brief interviews sharing their sympathies with Marta through a camera. He wondered if he should use these bottled up emotions to snap at them, get them to leave for good.

It didn’t bother him that the news said he was the trickster. Apparently, he’d orchestrated a portion of his father’s kidnapping. Conspiracies had him using her to get out of prison and take back his grandpa’s money. He could handle that bullshit. 

It was when they described Marta that he felt the familiar strings of anger. Interviewers made it seem like she was some meek mouse that couldn’t handle the privileged life handed to her. Or she was just another statistic in an abusive relationship. He threw the remote at the TV so hard it cracked a corner. Explaining that to Marta later had been hard. 

Marta didn’t say anything about the news when she visited, no doubt she’d been hounded on her way to and from the hospital, but she said nothing. Healing in her own way, trying her damndest to heal him too. People would blanch at the truth, that he was the powerless one.

He was hers. She could do whatever she wanted to him, and he’d fucking let her. At this point, he owed her his life five times over. For both what he’s done and his family. If she wanted him to leave, hell, he would learn to accept it. 

He wanted her, though, and he flipped between letting her go and trying to keep her here. He wouldn’t leave her, couldn’t. But he didn’t know if he was what she needed. He was working on these feelings, but damn was it hard. 

When the Doctor said he was clear to go home, he practically was itching to get out of bed. While Marta was out to get some more jello, he quickly changed into some khakis and a mint cashmere sweater. He almost felt normal, except his muscles weren’t as prominent, and he wobbled when he stood for a minute, but he was ready to go. Marta suddenly appeared before him, jello in hand, and gently pushed him back down.

“Give yourself a moment to just swing your legs. It’ll help.”

“I’ve lost more than enough muscle mass, thank you very much.” Ransom took the Jello and put it in her purse saying it was for the road before he pushed himself back up, wobbling again. Marta grabbed his forearms, helping him stand this time. He took advantage of it and leaned on her some more till she was holding him.

“If you wanted a hug, you could have just asked.”

“Where’s the fun in that? I earned this one.” He leaned his head down and blew on her neck. She jerked then sighed.

“You’re acting like a child.”

“I’ve been starved for attention. Can you blame me?” He pulled back and was glad to see she was smiling. See, she was fine.

“Yes, easily.” She patted his arm to release her, “the sooner we pack, the sooner we leave.”

“Can’t argue with that.” Ransom let her go and let her resume packing while he worked on standing. 

Ransom insisted he walk to the car, tapping a wheelchair prepped in the hall with his foot. Marta asked him if he was sure, saying that he might be biting off more than he could chew. Instead of getting in the chair, he hooked his arm around her instead.

They were slow-moving, him sluggish and weak from copious amounts of bedrest getting into the elevator, breathing heavily. They were going towards the basement because, of course, nothing was ever easy, and meager amounts of reporters were at the front trying to bleed whatever they could from this story.

Marta mentioned she going to be driving, and he hadn’t thought anything strange from her saying so. They got to the car, prepping by dropping everything while Ransom got into the passenger seat. He thanked her for getting his door. Marta took a moment before popping in on the other side. She hesitated before fussing over him, not actually starting the car. Freezing suddenly, then jerkily moving back to go through the motions.

“Everything okay?” Ransom asked.

“Yeah.” She said, brushing some hair from her face. “Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?”

“Should we go back to the hospital? You look like you’re thinking too hard.”

“Probably because I am.”

He hummed, “what is it about me that gets your brain moving.”

She shook her head, and joked “I would say it’s the ability to wear sweaters even in the middle of August.”

“Hey, you packed it.” Ransom relaxed, wondering if it was his imagination. She backed up then began driving. They left the parking garage, then started going through the city. It seemed fine and until they got off the freeway.

Ransom noticed she was white-knuckling the steering wheel. Her breathing increased, and sweat dotted her forehead.

“Hey, pull over.” He said.

“huh?”

“Pull over.” The car came to the side of the road. Ransom used his full body to face her. He waited for her to breathe normally. She rolled down her window to let air into the car. “Is it?”

“First time.” She gasped, eyes closed. Ransom put his hand out on the console, and she grabbed it, squeezing. “Thought it’d be fine, but I don’t even remember how we got here.”

“It’s okay. I like the air here, we can stay as long as you want.” He waited before asking, “Want to take a moment or want me to drive?”

“I want to do it.” She met his eyes. “I just hate looking at the backseat. Stupid, I know, but I keep seeing things in my peripherals and in the mirror, and I can’t stop thinking about it no matter how many times I check.”

“Okay then,” He leaned back, still holding onto her hand, “We wait.”

They sat there for a bit. Her breathing slowed down, picked up, then slowed down again. He didn’t mind the sounds of air rushing in and out of her. Just waited. Marta let go of his hand, placing both on the steering wheel, then nodded like she was ready.

Driving again, Ransom was glad these streets weren’t busy. He knew this wasn’t going to get better after one talk. But she looked like she’d calmed down, at least for the moment, and even though she didn’t go over 35, he was fine. 

Briefly, he wondered if distractions would help. “Do you want to talk?” He asked, clarifying, “just small talk. You can say when you want to stop.”

“Maybe.” She looked focused on the road.

He hummed, “favorite season?”

“I like fall, you?”

“Baseball.”

She cracked a smile, “aside from sports.”

“I like summer, used to go on boats a lot.”

“Seems like something you would do.”

“Well, should I be insulted?”

“It’s a compliment. I’ve never been on a boat.”

“I’ll need to take you some time. Anything else you want to do?”

“I want to go to Greece, you?” 

“I don’t know, never been to Greece.” He thought about it. “I think I wouldn’t mind going to Singapore. Why Greece?”

“I want to look at the history, maybe see something that’s hard for me to comprehend. Why Singapore?”

“I’ve never been. Anywhere in Asia, actually, or the middle east. I’ve been to Europe, but not Africa or Asia. It would be nice to do something unexpected and enjoy it.”

“I think you and I have very different experiences when we do travel.”

“You’re probably right about that,” he said, “let me guess your way is immersing yourself into the culture?”

“Yeah, and yours includes massages and champagne over gold leaf entrees.”

“I feel so attacked right now.”

“Waste of gold.” She replied, and he snorted.

“You know I think I want to try it your way.”

“That would be nice.” Marta took another deep breath. They were maybe ten minutes away from home now.

When they turned down the street, Marta felt like she’d run a marathon with how much she’d sweat. Her shirt clung to her back, and her underarms were damp. If she knew how bad it would be, maybe she would have taken the driver. 

She still felt weird, weird driving up this pathway. Watching the two men in Mr. Proofroc’s guardhouse nod her up. Even if it was over, the security didn’t make her feel secure, and that was frustrating. The added on violation of things she shouldn’t worry about in her home.

She parked the car as close to the door as she could. She still hadn’t told Ransom of her talk with her mother. How she felt estranged and so much like an outsider in her own body. It was a moment in the hotel with her mother that just hit the nail on the head.

The large hotel room, not excessively large, just larger than either room they could afford before the inheritance had her mother standing by the window with her arms crossed. Looking out, Beatriz looked both angry and disappointed. Marta had taken a seat near the coffee table, waiting for her to start. 

When Beatriz started to talk, it was in Spanish, “Is it today?”

“In a couple of days.”

“I don’t want him staying with you.”

“I know.”

“He tried to kill you!”

“I know.” She repeated. Still, Marta looked at her mother. She wondered if she looked as exhausted as she felt. “It’s not about that.”

“How can it not be? I thought I raised you to see the signs in abusive situations?”

“He regrets it.”

“That’s not good enough.” Beatriz just shook her head, “That doesn’t help.”

“I know–”

“I don’t want anything more with this money, Marta. I want to go home, to my home and not see another cent of it.” Beatriz interrupted. “Alicia doesn’t agree. She’s using it whether I like it or not.”

At Marta’s silence, she continued. “I’m just trying to understand. Marta, I never thought you wanted money.”

“I don’t”

“Then why let it change you.” Beatriz came over then put a hand on Marta’s cheek, “You were always my kind giving girl. You didn’t complain, only worried. I’m just trying to understand why you won’t let yourself leave it.”

“I want to give him a second chance.”

Beatriz took her hand away, “Yes, and you’ll give him a third, and a fourth, and a fifth chance. The family will get one too. I know how this works. It’s the same reason I stayed with your father for so long.”

“At least it will be my choice.” Marta had to look up, so frustrated, dragging her hands over her face.

“It’s not healthy. These decisions are hurting you. I just want you to see that.”

“But they're mine!” She shouted, “and yes, maybe they aren’t the healthiest, but at the moment, they were the best I had.” She took a breath and put a hand in the air stopping her mother from getting ready to speak. “And I’m going to keep making these decisions. My decisions, and it’s going to seem like I don’t know what I’m doing. But I do. Now I do know what I need to do.”

They stood across from each other, Marta in an odd place because her mother wasn’t wrong. It looked like she was self-destructive. It looked like she couldn’t walk away from the money, but that was only because she wasn’t telling people her plans. Besides, the money had done some good.

It opened a door. One that hadn’t been open to her family before. It would be easy for her mother to write Harlan’s fortune off as a curse, especially now that Beatriz was a citizen. Her mother didn’t need the money anymore, but not Alicia, and even Marta was beginning to start putting it to use. She didn’t want to waste the good that could come from using the money for charities, or foster kids, or scholarships.

There was a lot to be done, and she just wanted to let go. She walked up and gave her mother a hug. “I’m sorry for screaming, mama.”

Beatriz clasped her tight, holding Marta close. “I’m sorry too.” She pulled back and brought a thumb up to her face to wipe at her eyes. “I’ll always be your mama, so allow me to keep worrying even when you won’t do it for yourself. I’ll trust you, but it won’t stop me from worrying.”

“That’s all I can ask for.”

“You okay?” Ransoms voice shook her from her thoughts.

“I’m fine. Thanks.” She got out and came over while he was trying to get out himself. Automatically putting his arm around her then making their way over to the house.

“Wonder what’s next.” He seemed to ask, and Marta looked up at him, “you know now that’s it over.”

“Yeah.” She tightened her hold on him. I wonder what’s next.”

###### 

The house was the same, not like he expected. She left him to go grab his belongings in the back of the car. He made his way over to his grandfather’s picture, always funny how the light played with the expressions. Now he just looked dead. 

Marta came in later, and Ransom spoke up, “What do you think of this picture really?”

Marta shot him a quizzical look, coming over to stand with him and take a look. “I used to think it was weird, then it was funny. Now It makes me feel sad.”

“A lot of emotion there, Marta.”

“Well, what do you think of it?”

“I think it’s weird that it’s still up.” He looked at her, “This is your house now. You do know that, right?”

Her expression said she didn’t. “It’s hard to separate everything sometimes.” She shrugged and put a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s get you settled.”

Ransom was helped to his room, not hers, and he accepted it. Knowing she probably wanted to give him his own space. He wasn’t 100%, but it stung. She eyed him while he said nothing about the situation, but she seemed to pick up on his displeasure. 

“It’s only temporary,” she said as she positioned some blankets and pillows on the bed. “You’ll rest easier here.”

He doubted that. Moody and moving things to his desk, he muttered to himself. Damned that he’d be confined to a bed. A snort sounded behind him, and he looked to see Marta clearing a bemused expression from her face. He rolled his eyes, but then decided to see how far he could push it, made his way over.

“I mean, if you want to be confined to a bed with me, that changes things.” His voice was husky while he leaned in, watching to see if it was okay but also trying to keep it light-hearted. 

She put a hand on his chest, “You’re funny, but patients don’t get to have fun. They have to get better.”

Now he snorted, “but of course.”

She hesitated, and Ransom couldn’t help thinking it was one foot forward and two steps back. Finally, she turned and began to organize some of the room. Picking up table books and moving them to his shelf. “Wanetta will be over here later with her nurse. You’ll like her, she’s sweet.”

“Nana? And why should I care that her nurse is sweet?” Not that he minded, he did have a family favorite. But it was all so off. His throat suddenly went dry, and his eyes turned to steel. “Marta.”

“Yes?” she was messing with some books over on a shelf.

“How long is she staying.”

Silence was his answer. It seemed like she still hadn’t gotten over her crippling need to vomit when she lied. Ransom was at a loss, and an ugly part of him wanted to continue to badger her with questions, knowing she would cave. Instead, he took a breath, “When are you leaving?”

“In two days.” She was so quiet, voice raspy. “I’m sorry, so so sorry.”

He swallowed, standing then making his way over. He took her in his arms, “Hey, It’s okay. You said you needed a break.”

“Not from you, I don’t want you to think it’s from you.”

“I know that. I also know how a well-deserved vacation can put fuel in the tank.” He chuckled, resting his chin on her head, “then again, I never earned a vacation in my life. I just took them.”

“You’re joking at a time like this.” Her voice was muffled in his shirt.

“Someone’s got to. If I don’t then I’d break down crying. How long?”

“A couple of months.”

He swallowed, “So the rest of my house arrest.”

She nodded then looked at him. “I wasn’t going to, and then I just did.”

“So spontaneous,” He pulled away, clearing his throat. Mind whirling, he should have put the ball in his court, brought it up more. “Guess we’ll have to make the most of our forty-eight hours.” He walked back over to his desk. “You uh— mind giving me a moment.”

“Yeah,” she hesitated at the door and then left. 

He stood at the desk, pressing his palms flat against the surface. Staring at his hands, selfishly thinking he might be able to get her to stay and then returning to this new version of him. The version that wanted her to be happy and was willing to do anything to make that so. Really this was going to test the limits of this new version of himself, and he really really wanted to prove that he could do this. Be boyfriend material, partner material, something to come back to material, whatever in the fuck he was.

One breath, he moved the papers to the side of the desk. On the second breath, he stood a little straighter. On the third breath, he ran his hands through his hair. On the fourth, he tugged on the collar of his shirt. With the fifth, he gave a little hop. On the sixth, he turned and started to leave the room with his typical relaxed gait. On the seventh, he saw the book Marta just put on the shelf, Keeper. With his eighth breath, he exited the room and called out, “Marta, I’m making coffee. Light roast or dark?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been a while. Sorry for that, and to those still reading, thank you for waiting.   
> I feel like I put Ransom in an unfair place, and he is struggling through it. Same with Marta, and wow, they make me feel guilty.
> 
> I was in a rut after the last chapter. I went through so many drafts it hurt. Thank you, Shannon, for beating (you're amazing)  
> I plan to have two more chapters after this. I want to finish this fic, and I really do love it. I hope you like this chapter after seemingly suffering through the worst possible cliff hanger. There will be either two chapters left or 2 and an epilogue. I'm really riffing it here and outlining the hell outta this. Only because I was in a different place six or seven months ago, and now so are these two. Still promising a HEA, I mean, how can I not after forcing them through this.
> 
> Please feel free to point out any fixes.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, and I hope it's your cup of coffee. I'm so glad this fandom is so diverse and put the content out there. If you leave a comment, Thank you! If you leave a kudos, Thank you! I'll try to get it out ASAP


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